Riptide
by Mechabeira
Summary: Tony studied his wife, his daughter. Their linked hands and dark hair. They were caught in a riptide, sliding farther out to sea. "I think this is all-hands-on-deck, Boss." Fifth in the "Treading Water" series. T/Z.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings, friends and readers.**  
 **I saw that finale. I was hurt, then I was insulted, then I was angry. And now the best "screw you" I can think is to just keep doing what I do.**

 **This is for you and me and us. This is for the life of imagination. I hope it**  
 **This is the fifth part of my "Treading Water" series. Posted-in-progress, as it keeps me honest.**

 **Disclaimer: not mine, as I would have done a better job. (Apologies. I'm really not that kind of ego.)**  
 **Thanks: girleffect, Chemmie, Amilyn**

. . . .

Two Topamax in each box. Two Elavil. One phenol. One multi-vitamin. _M-T-W-Th-F-Sat-Sun_. A wail rose and fell from the kid's bedroom. Gibbs sniffed, snapped the pill case closed.

Ziva's voice filtered out. She was soft. Gentle. Sometimes compliant, and that scared the hell out of him.

He'd asked the doc about it once. _She ain't the same_ , he'd said, and Monroe and shrugged and smiled and said, _Nope._

He closed the cabinet. The kid cried again.

He put away the breakfast dishes. Wiped down the counter, the table, swept the floor. He opened the curtains. The school bus stopped at the corner, picked up a few kids—

Liana not among them—

and pulled away.

Ziva's voice again, soft, soft. _I will be fine while you are away, Lia._

And then Liana's long _nooooo_ and more stifled sobbing.

Ziva rolled out, face red, brows knitted. She shook her head, opened her mouth—nothing.

Gibbs jogged magazines into a neat pile. _Dress-right-dress._ "Don't send her."

She tensed. "How could I? She is inconsolable."

"She get her meds?"

"Yes."

He made more coffee. Liana appeared, sniffling, hiccupping. " _Ema?_ I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It's ok," Ziva said quickly. She took her daughter in her arms. "I know. You should—" She hesitated. Gibbs grunted. _Don't even, Ziver_. "We will have a home-day."

Liana jolted. "I don't want to get in trouble."

"You will not."

"Skipping school is not ok. I will get a pink slip."

"It is not skipping if you have my permission."

He heard Liana sigh. "Are you mad?"

"No," Ziva said.

"Saba, are you mad?"

The fearful look on Liana's face pinched something deep in his spine. "Nope."

She studied him a second longer, then looked away. "What should I do?"

Gibbs snorted. Ziva was crap at planning. "We can—" she started, and trailed off.

He gave her a nudge. "Get out your workbooks, Lee-lee."

She looked at her mother, then him. "Which one?"

"Math first." He'd help with that a while, give Ziver a break. "Then you and mom can do reading log."

She nodded, wary, climbed down, and scampered off to her room.

Ziva sighed. "Thank you."

"Keep her up with her classmates."

She rolled her eyes. "Like she would ever fall behind."

Not her grades, he knew, but the kid was different. Quiet. Too quiet. Too nervous. A little, well, _weird_.

"Take a load off, Ziver."

She side-eyed him. "And do what, exactly?"

He shrugged, lowered himself to a dining chair. Liana returned, math workbook tucked under her scrawny arm. She climbed up beside him. "We're doing odds and evens up to twenty. That's the standard. I already know it." She opened to a page of word problems. " _There were forty-one people in line and sixteen more got in line. How many people were total in the line?_ "

"Break the question down, Lia," Ziva coached. "Work from base-ten."

Gibbs shot her a look. _Go find something to do._

She glared back. Liana looked between them, worried, and wrote the numbers in the margin. She cocked her head, ciphered, and wrote in _fifty-seven_.

"Do the next two," he instructed.

She nodded and moved her pencil down to the next line. Gibbs opened the newspaper. Ziva shifted, obviously waiting for him to do something. He gave her a look over the sports section. "Yeah, Ziver?"

She raised one shoulder. _So?_

He sipped coffee, raised his chin at her. _Get._

She blinked, shrugged, turned down the hallway. She could go draw, go read, go stare at a wall for all he cared, as long as she took a goddamned break. He didn't want to spend the evening managing her and her exhaustion.

Liana sat back before he could finish a whole article. "Done, Saba."

He looked it over. All correct. "Good. What's next?"

She turned the page. "Subtracting within a hundred."

Was this the curriculum everyone complained about? "Go, kiddo."

She nodded, already bent over the page. He got through preseason stats before she sat back again. "Done."

Liana turned to the next page. Gibbs drained his coffee. "Want me to check?"

"I know it's all right. I'll just keep going."

Couldn't argue with that. He scanned the local news, skimmed the national, skimmed the classifieds, the ads. He wanted something to work on.

Liana let out an explosive breath and shook her fingers out. "Done! I did the whole section!"

She pushed the book at him. He flipped through—nine pages of double-digit adding and subtracting. She'd finished it un just under half an hour. "All of it."

"It's all correct."

He got up, put his mug in the sink. "Yep. Grab your gear."

She bit her lip. "Where are we going?"

"Hardware store."

She put on her shoes, grabbed a light jacket _because it looks like rain, Saba_ , and buckled herself in. Wasn't a kid her age too big for a car seat?

He backed out of the drive. "Why you hate school so much, Li?"

She was quiet. He didn't know her, he mused. She was Ziver's, Tony's—a little off-limits to him. "Kids pick on you?"

She didn't meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. "No."

He waited. She, like her mom, would break eventually.

"I worry a lot that something will happen to Ema."

"I won't let that happen."

She shot him a look. "You can't say that. You can't control everything."

But he could damned well try. "I know, but I got backup."

"Like who?"

"Your dad. Dr. Monroe."

"Two people isn't enough."

 _More than you ever had._ "Gives me something to go on, Lee-lee."

Liana went quiet. Sometimes he wondered how she lugged all that worry around. "I don't want Ema to die."

Gibbs put the car in park and sat for a minute. He finally turned to look at Liana, wide-eyed and sad in her booster seat. "I do the best I can every single day."

"I know," she whispered.

"Gotta trust me."

She nodded, chewed her lip. "Is Ema mad that I didn't go to school?"

"Nope."

They got out. She trotted up next to him. "Then why didn't she come with us?"

He found teak for a new picnic table. Ziva needed a minimum forty-eight inch overhang. Maybe he'd build in a cooler at accessible height. He'd put a clearcoat on it. "Mom needs a break."

"My teacher thinks I am annoying."

He dropped a two-by-twelve on a hand-truck _._

"She told another teacher that I bug her too much. I heard them when I was shredding papers in the office. Mrs. Seitam lets me do that sometimes instead of going to recess."

Gibbs nodded, jaw clenched, and threw another two-by-twelve on the stack.

"I asked for extra work so I could get an A-plus in Humanities."

"You don't need extra work."

Her eyes glaze over. "Once I got an A-plus on spelling and Ema was so happy. Do you remember that?"

Had she heard him? "Li, your mom's proud of you no matter what. Help me with the hardware."

She counted out bolts, brackets, washers, wood screws, bagged everything and labeled it with the pen chained to the shelf. She was a meticulous kid. "Let's go."

Liana stopped short in the main aisle and almost got a face-full of teak. Gibbs bit his tongue. He'd grab a candy bar for each of them.

"I want to go to college," she announced.

"Yeah."

"If I get straight-As I can get scholarships. Then Ema and Daddy won't have to pay. Do you know how much college costs?"

"Lia."

She did that thing again like she hadn't heard him. "Almost ten thousand dollars per year. And that's _now_. How high is it going to be when I graduate?"

"Your parents are saving up for it."

He'd been stashing here and there, too.

"Ten thousand dollars is just tuition. Books and supplies can cost another two thousand dollars. That's twelve thousand. What about food and housing? What about gas to get there? College Park is a half-hour drive each way. They will have to come get me at breaks and summer because the dorms close." She paused to breathe. "Or I could live at home. Maybe that would be less."

Gibbs crouched in front of her. "Liana, look at me."

She did, brows drawn low over her golden eyes. No wonder her parents called her _the lioness_.

"It's not your job to worry about that. Not right now."

Liana nodded, serious, silent.

"It's your job to trust your family to take care of you."

She nodded again. "But they're going to die."

 _Jesus, kid_. "Everyone is going to die eventually. Doesn't mean we should worry about it right now."

Liana blinked, swayed. Was she even in there? "I don't want to go back to foster care when Daddy and Ema die. I want to have a job so I don't have to get used to another family."

Gibbs and had her help him scan the bar codes so he could pay. Then she helped him load the truck, buckled in, watched the scenery while he drove them home, then helped him unload everything in the garage. He'd said nothing. She wouldn't believe anything anyway.

Ziva greeted them at the door. "Welcome back."

Liana climbed into her arms. Gibbs slammed another pot of coffee together, feeling a strange terror climb upon his shoulders.

"Lia," Ziva cooed. "Can you go put on your suit and find mine? I'd love to take a swim with you."

Liana scampered, as usual. Gibbs flung a finger at the path she'd beaten. "That kid needs therapy."

Redness crept up Ziva's neck. "I will not force her."

"She's walking around day in and day out convinced you're gonna die and she'll end up back in the system."

She raised a hand to her brow and rubbed. "Why did she not tell me?"

"Too busy making a backup plan. Gotta hand it to her for that."

"A seven-year-old should not-"

"Yours is."

Ziva fell silent. Gibbs watched birds pick across the first fallen leaves.

"Something ain't right," he finally said.

Her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. _Spit it out, Ziver._ "I know," she agreed. "We know about the anxiety but…"

 _But._ "Better have her checked out."

She nodded. "I thought it would get better, but the past few weeks—"

 _Meltdown after meltdown. Up half the night. Little tics in her hands and face. Repeating herself._

"ASAP."

"Yes."

She picked her cuticles, nodded again. He felt like a bastard. "You ok?"

"We knew there was a possibility that she was not ok."

"Love ain't always enough, Ziver."

She swallowed. Her eyes were huge and dark in her thin face. "Then why do I feel like I have failed?"

He smirked. "'Cause you're a good mom."

She snorted. "I will make some phone calls."

"Kid's taking an awful long time to find your bathing suit."

Ziva's eyes narrowed. She whirled without another word and disappeared down the hall. He drank his coffee in the quiet and waited on her to call him to help her change.

Nope. Liana. " _Saba!_ Come help us!"

 _Seizure_. He went, but there wasn't much for him to do. Ziva's head bobbed, eyes flickering. She swallowed reflexively. Gibbs put his hand on her slack cheek and waited.

Li pranced, nervous, face white. "I don't like when this happens!"

"She'll come around in a minute."

Less than. Ziva blinked and looked at them, confused. "Damn," she sighed.

"Might wanna give it a minute before you get in the pool."

"Yeah," Liana chimed. "Not safe, Ema." Ziva rolled her eyes and huffed, not all there yet. Liana twisted her fingers together. "You could drown," she said seriously.

"I _know_ ," she clipped. Gibbs held his breath. The postictal power-down stilted her speech. Her tone would be off for a bit.

And that was Liana's Kryptonite. She twitched all over and then collapsed in tears. "I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "I don't want you to forget."

He gave Ziver's hand a squeeze. She squeezed back. "Liana?" she said. "Lia, please get up. You are ok."

She curled in a ball. "You're mad at me."

Gibbs felt his patience stretch like a rubber band. "No one's mad, Li."

She pillowed her head on her arms. "Ema is."

"I am not," Ziva maintained. "But please stand up so we can speak face-to-face."

Liana dragged herself up back-first like a camel. Gibbs ran a hand over his face and got up, too. He went to the garage, picked up his cell off the workbench, dialed DiNozzo from memory. "You need to get home."

Muffled sounds, voices that weren't Tony's. A deposition? Then a door slammed. "What?"

"You need to get home," Gibbs repeated. "ASAP."

"Why?" He sounded irritated. And had better knock it off.

"Something ain't right with the kid, Anthony."

Silence. The door slamming again. "You ok for an hour?"

It would take about that long to close him out, make his way across town and into the 'burbs, even if he took Potomac Parkway. "I'm on it."

Tony hung up. Gibbs hung up and went back inside.

The girls were in the pool. Ziva drifted, a noodle behind her shoulders, and Liana paddled hard up and back, pausing only to turn around. Her goggles were fogged.

"I'm going to learn how to flip turn," she informed him. "That way I can join a swim team."

 _How 'bout you join your class first?_ "Sounds good."

Ziva gave him a short nod. She had some color in her face again. Must've had some sugar. "How does pizza sound for dinner?"

"Good," he said, nodding, irritable. He couldn't be with them. He couldn't listen to Liana's high voice bounce off the walls. "'Be in the garage," he said, and left.

He laid the two-by-twelves out on the floor. Sharpened a pencil. Sketched a design. A basic rectangular table. He'd widen the base, extend the surface. A twelve-by-sixty space for the cooler. He'd run the bolts through, reinforce the plastic trench at the joints. The teak was weather-resistant. He'd join it with dovetails in something darker. Still tropical, though—macadamia?

Gibbs measured, measured, made the first cuts. The wood was good. Clean. He marked the joins but didn't cut. Laid out the hardware on the workbench.

This was a few days, at most. A few for the wood to settle. A few to stain and dry it. He could have it out before they barbecued for the last time.

DiNozzo's car pulled in the drive. The engine cut. His hurried footsteps went up the walk, the steps, then the front door opened and closed.

"Boss?"

"Yeah."

Tony was trying to play it casual. "What's up?"

"Kid's in the pool with Ziva."

"Which is making me wonder why the hell you called me home."

"Something's wrong."

He crossed his arms.

"The drugs aren't working. She's a mess."

"Which is why she's not at school." Tony's shoulders drooped. He was middle-aged. A father. A man who went to work every day and came home every day. He provided for his family, exercised, ate well. "We've got some phone numbers."

"Ziver said she would make the calls."

"I'll do it," he blurted. "Was it the same as usual this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Whole routine?"

"All of it."

He ran a hand over his hair. "And Ziva let her—"

"There was no way, DiNozzo."

He nodded. "Let me grab that file."

He went inside. Gibbs started on the frame. Sixty-five degrees on each cut. Three top braces. He'd check the angles again before the glue set.

Tony was back fast. He looked shocky. "Siddown," Gibbs ordered.

He sat. "Lady in Rockville is sending a referral to Baltimore. Said it's Level One. It's like she needs a trauma center."

 _That long first night at Walter Reed. Waiting for Ziva to stabilize enough for the steroid injections. Waiting for the doctors to come around. Waiting for her to be moved from ER to Neuro. Waiting._

"When will you know something?"

"Noon tomorrow."

Gibbs grunted.

Tony put his elbows on his knees. "How'd it get like this?"

The end of summer had been good. Too good. School had pulled the rug out from under her. "Doesn't matter."

He nodded again. "Thanks, Boss."

"I'm not your Boss." But he was, Gibbs knew. And would be. He lined up the angles. All square. Dress-right-dress. "You got this DiNozzo."

Tony nodded again. He leaned on the workbench, eyes distant.

"Whatever it is," he said, and stopped working to look at him. _Really_ look. Tony was a man. One he was proud to know. "You got this."

. . . .

Those old ghosts rattled the window glass at night. Gibbs ended up pacing to get away from the noise. Made his rounds, made his coffee, waited for the sun to come up. But blue light from under Liana's door stopped him.

She was up. Again. That made three nights this week.

He knocked.

She looked up from her laptop. An old one McGee had refurbished for her. "Hi, Saba."

"0300, Li."

She copied an address from the screen into a notebook. "Ema and Daddy are taking me to Baltimore tomorrow."

"Yep." He looked at the map on the screen—she'd searched for food pantries, homeless shelters, social service centers. His stomach churned. "And they're bringing you home, too."

She rubbed her eyes. "I gave Daddy a really bad time."

She'd flipped at lights-out. "You were pretty scared."

"Ema was so mad at me."

Exhausted, more like. "Nope, just tired."

"She just rolled away like I wasn't even talking to her."

 _Talking_ was more like _screaming_. "You both needed a break."

She didn't hear him. "I made a list of places I can eat and sleep."

"They ain't leaving you in Baltimore."

She'd blocked him out. "And a lot of the places are right by the DSS office. They probably did that on purpose."

"Liana—"

"I can go there to get an address so I can register for school. Then I don't have to worry about a job because if I'm in school that's free breakfast and lun—"

" _Liana_."

She looked up. "Do you think it would be ok if I took the jacket they bought me and my extra shoes? I checked the weather and-"

He took her face in his hands. The muscles in her jaw shifted beneath his fingers. He rarely, if ever, touched her, but this was-

"Liana," he said, quiet but firm. "You are going to see doctors in Baltimore. Then you are coming home with your parents."

She stared at him. Her face was blank and pasty in the monitor's glow.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

Liana nodded. She breathed harshly through her nose. Gibbs watched her bring her wrist to her mouth and sink her eye teeth into the soft skin beneath her thumb.

He yanked her arm down, jerking her whole body. "No."

She swayed, eye fixed on the open door. "I want Ema."

Gibbs held his hand out. "C'mon."

She took it, but knocked the heel of her free hand against her temple. No major damage. He let it go.

Ziva woke with a sharp inhale. "Ab—"

"Here," he whispered.

Liana clambered up without a word, curled against her mother's side, and closed her eyes.

"Thanks," Ziva mumbled, halfway-sleeping.

He left the room, poured himself a second (third? tenth?) coffee and sat at the dining table. His neck hurt.

 _Ziva's soft, persistent sobbing. The nurses in and out, checking her vitals, asking again and again about her pain levels. Their obvious irritation at 0300. 0400 when she just wouldn't settle. At 0500 when the seizures hit. At 0600 when she fought them on the routine, at 0700 when she refused to eat._

"Ziver," he sighed. "You make me goddamned crazy."

The paper hit the porch with a _thud_. He retrieved it. Water ran. Someone else was up.

Gibbs made fresh coffee, laid the paper on the table, scanned the fridge for some breakfast, and closed the door to find Ziva bathed and dressed.

DiNozzo was probably up, too.

"Morning."

"You have been up all night."

He got her a glass of juice and her meds. "Not the first time, Ziver."

She gave him that sorry look. "We are leaving at eight. That will give you the day."

He'd read the paper, maybe finish the table, maybe watch some television. The classic movie channel was showing _The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly_ at 1400.

Ziva was still looking at him. "What?" he snapped.

"You are angry."

 _Ema was so angry at me._

"Nope."

She put the kettle on for tea. "I am doing the best I can."

The knot in his chest loosened. "Me, too, Ziver."

"I know," she whispered.

 _Abba?  
Abba!_

DiNozzo appeared, hair wet from the shower, and then the kid peeked her face around the corner. "Saba," she whispered.

"What?" he whispered back.

"Sorry I woke you up."

He wouldn't know sleep if it was on his six. "Not you, Li."

He threw a banana, some peanut butter, some protein powder, and milk in the blender and hit _go_. Smoothies were Liana's main source of calories.

But she balked when he handed her the cup. "No thanks, Saba."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Liana," she warned.

"I'm not hungry."

"Then take it in the car with you."

"It will spill."

Gibbs watched Ziva take a deep breath. "We have travel cups. Saba—"

He dumped it in a cup with a lid and put it on the table. "Smoothie with legs."

"I don't _want_ it," Liana shrilled. She shrank away from him, "I'm not _hungry_."

Ziva gave her a gentle shake. "That is enough. Take your cup and get in the car."

Liana went red. "Ema, I don't—"

"Let it go, Ziver," Gibbs interrupted. "Li, forget it. Go get in the car."

She looked ready to shoot him. "Do not undermine me like that. Now she will be hungry and falling apart in an hour."

 _Stand down_ , his glare said. He tucked the cup between her knees. "Take it with you. She'll ask when she's ready."

She gave him that long, slow look. She would kill him if she could. "I am the mother—"

"You're asking too much."

"Abba, all I—"

He bent close to her, made her look him fully in the eye, and said, slowly, quietly: "You are asking too much."

Ziva's shoulders slumped, but she didn't tear her gaze away. "How will I know—"

He jabbed his thumb at the garage door. "That. That's how you know. Quit throwing gasoline on the fire."

 _Help me clear the table before you throw your temper tantrum, Ziver.  
_ _I will not tantrum, Abba.  
_ _Sure looks like it to me._

She glanced around the room, eyes wet at the corners. A tiny laugh tore from her throat. "Those first few weeks…I hardly remember—"

"I do."

She touched his hand. "I know. I am so sorry."

"Don't," he warned.

She nodded, looked down at the smoothie still tucked between her knees. "I should go. Please try to rest today."

Gibbs poured more coffee. He needed a Zantac and the sports page. "Yep." Ziva paused with one hand on the knob, eyes on him. "Docs are waiting," he nudged.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

He motioned with his chin. _Get._

Ziva nodded. There was a small smile playing across her face. "Abba, I—"

"Go, Ziver."

She nodded, still smiling, and the door snicked shut behind her.

. . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Happy Summer, fellow Northern Hemispherians! I hope this chapter finds you well.**

 **Thank you so, so much for all the love for the first chapter. I hope you love this one, too.**

 **Thanks: born30, Amilyn, girleffect and all yous.**

 **Disclaimer: Yeah? No.**

. . . .

Gibbs filed down the last butterfly joint and tapped it in. He sanded, puttied over the through-bolts, picked a polyurethane. Rubbed his face with his rough hands.

He wasn't tired.

He ate a salami sandwich. He watched a Western. He stretched out on the sofa with the newspaper, but his gaze drifted, drifted…

And then he was snorting awake, readers on his chin, front door creaking open. Cold air swept in, shook the cobwebs from Gibbs' head. Tony carried a sleeping Liana in his arms and went straight to her room.

Gibbs shuffled out to find Ziva hauling herself out of the passenger seat. Her face was puffy, her shoulder smeared with whitish crust. The streetlights flickered on one by one.

It had all gone to hell.

The cold wind blew again. She winced, adjusted her legs, said nothing.

He held the door for her, brought down her basket of meds. She'd crash early.

"They separated us," she said between pills. "Even though I told them not to."

Gibbs grunted.

"I heard her crying the entire time."

He slid the basket back into the cabinet.

"The clinic social worker spent a long time with Tony and me. We had no family medical history to share with her. Does that not strike you as strange?"

The kid was a mystery. "What else she want?"

Ziva still did not look at him. "She asked about our routine, Lia's school refusal, her anxiety, her relationship with us." She took a breath and finally looked at him. "She asked a lot about my health."

Gibbs grunted again.

One shoulder rose and fell. "Do you think this is my fault?"

"Nope," he replied.

She stared at a point somewhere in the middle distance. "Do you think I should speak with Dr. Monroe again about the VNS surgery?"

He shrugged. She wasn't really asking his opinion. "Not my body."

"If it could help…if I could be more present…"

"So let's make an appointment."

She nodded. There were dark half-moons under her eyes. "The social worker asked a lot of questions about Liana's… _quirks_. Her interests, her reading, her friendships," she ducked her head, "or lack thereof. Her clothing preferences, hygiene habits. So many very specific questions. It felt like another home study."

"Lookin' at the big picture."

"She gave me a list of alternative education resources. I do not think Lia should return to school."

"Nope."

She paused and rubbed her eyes. A tiny tremor moved through her hands. "Next time she will have an MRI and a PET scan. The psychiatrist on the team already prescribed a stronger anti-anxiety medication."

"Yep."

She blinked. "Why does this feel so _foreign_?"

 _Can you move her, Gibbs? Bathe her? Cut her food?_

He picked up her hand from where it lay on her knee. "Different when it's your kid."

"Did you feel like this?"

He looked at her in the yellowish kitchen light; the planes of her face, the sharp angles of her shoulders _._ Her silk button-down blouse and tailored black trousers. She'd dressed up.

 _Unstrapping the sleep splints, checking tag, seams. Reflexes going crazy. Clamping her feeding tube to her collar. Listening to her gasp and cry when the nurses rolled her—_

He crossed his arms, leaned back against the counter. "Yeah."

"Helpless," she continued.

He nodded. "Yep."

Ziva swallowed and nodded. They were quiet for a while, listening to Tony's television filter down the hall.

"You two fight?" Gibbs asked.

She blinked, nodded. "Tony thinks the assessors were harsh. I said that they cannot get accurate results if they treat her like we do."

 _Coddle_.

He grunted. "Go be with him, Ziver."

She gave him that doe-eyed look. "Are you going home?"

"Nah."

She pressed her lips together. "They'd like to speak to you, too."

He shoulda known. "When?"

"Next Monday. 1400. You can ride with us, or—"

"I'll drive."

"Of course."

She was slouching, neck curved like a bow. "You should get to bed, Ziver."

"Yes. After I talk to my husband. Goodnight."

He bent and kissed her cheek.

 _The smell of sickness, of Betadine, harsh laundry soap, Tegaderm. Her hair on the scratchy pillowcase, the egg crate to prevent pressure sores on her ears. The all-in meetings-_

 _It's time to redefine Ziva's normal, Mr. Gibbs._

"You need—"

"Tony can do it." She paused and swallowed, tired. Was she getting a headache? "He is _so_ protective."

Gibbs tipped her chin toward him and gave it a gentle pinch with his thumb and forefinger. Half-affection, half-warning. "That's what dads do."

. . . .

"Have a seat," Dr. Mennet said, and handed him a mug.

Soft furniture, classical music, coffee. Gibbs sat, sipped. Hot motor oil. Good. "Why'd you call me in?"

She sat across from him. "You're a member of the household. How do you think of your relationship to Liana?"

"Grandfather."

She scratched a note. "What does that mean to you?"

"Helping out."

"How so?"

"This and that."

She gave him a side-eye and made another note. "How do you see Liana's behavior?"

"She can't help it."

"Is it disruptive?"

"I'm here, ain't I?"

Dr. Mennet blinked at him. "Can you identify triggers for the meltdowns?"

"Kid's scared her mom's gonna die."

"So separation anxiety. How do you see Ziva's health?"

"So-so. We keep an eye on her."

"We?"

"Me n' DiNozzo."

She gave a _hm_. "Your take caregiving very seriously."

"Yep."

"What's your average day like?"

"I take care of Ziva. I help with Liana. I do some woodworking."

"You won't be more specific?"

He smirked. "Nope."

"What would you like to see improve?"

"The screaming. Less stress on Tony and Ziva."

"How do you think we can make that happen?"

His patience was thinning. "I sailed this ship once, Doc. What's wrong with her?"

"You think there is a diagnosis for Lana?"

"She needs help."

Mennet cocked her head. "What would you do for her?"

"She needs to bond with her parents."

Her eyes narrowed. "You speak as though you've experienced this."

"Took a lot to get Ziva to trust me after she got hurt."

"You did attachment-based therapies?"

 _His goddamned gut_. "Didn't know it at the time."

"And you think it helped."

 _On his knees on the gym mats, cradling Ziva in his arms. Her eyes vacant, rolling. The short postictal sleep, then searching, searching for him, confused—_

"Yep."

"Would you participate in family therapy?"

"If it'll help the kid."

"You keep calling Liana 'the kid.' Why?"

"She's a _kid_ ," he said slowly.

"You are keeping your distance."

"Not my kid."

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

She closed her notebook. "Fair enough. You are not terribly forthcoming, Mr. Gibbs—"

"Just _Gibbs_."

"—and it is difficult to ascertain your thoughts about the stress in your home."

"We don't need to talk, lady. We need a game plan."

"I'm working on it," she said mildly. A warning. "But we need the scans to come back."

"Brain damage."

That side-eye again. "There is research that suggests trauma that occurs before brain maturation causes decreased mass in the corpus callosum, a smaller prefrontal cortex, and increased activity in the amygdala. That means increased arousal, decreased ability to self-regulate, difficulty with learning and cognition, and poor executive functioning."

 _Dr. Monroe in that tiny office, Ziva slumped in the hospital-issue wheelchair, twenty pounds underweight, seizing on and off-_

 _-It is time to redefine Ziva's normal, Gibbs-_

"She gonna grow up okay?"

"I think she can be independent with the right supports, though I am more concerned with the short-term. I have already reached out to a few counselors who specialize in neurodevelopmental trauma and asked them to make space in their schedule. Two have been amenable to taking on the David-DiNozzo's as clients."

"What do we do in the meantime?"

 _What do I do?_

"I think you're on the right track with giving Ziva breaks. Are you finding ways to take breaks, too?"

He got up. "That it?"

"I'd like you to come when we do the full team meeting. I think Tony and Ziva will need the support."

"Where are they now?"

"Radiology. Stop at the registration desk for a badge."

He put his hand out. "No bombshells, Doc."

A small smile graced her face. She was near his age, he noticed. Tall, blonde hair streaked with grey. Reading glasses perched on her head. "You're welcome, Gibbs."

. . . .

" _Liana appears well-groomed and comfortably dressed,"_ Ziva read. She paused to rub her eyes. _"She made appropriate eye contact. She asked thoughtful questions about the assessment process. However, questions about her (adoptive) family triggered hang-wringing, hand-flapping, mouthing, and crying. We had to end the session, as Liana refused to answer any more questions. Instead, she repeatedly asked for her mother until Ms. David was retrieved from the parent/caregiver session."_ She looked up at him. "She did not make it through the motor skills portion, either. How were they able to diagnose her?"

Gibbs pulled down his readers, turned the page. A section labeled _Confirmed Diagnoses:_

 _299.0 Autism Spectrum Disorder, Level One_

 _309.81 Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder_

 _315.32 Mixed Expressive-Receptive Language Disorder_

 _315.4 Gross Motor Delay_

 _319.5 Unspecified Delay in Development_

He tossed the packet on the kitchen counter. The lights were dim. The dishwasher clicked and switched cycles. _"_ Think they're wrong?"

Ziva sighed, too. There were constant dark smudges under her eyes. "I think we should have helped her sooner."

 _We're going to treat Ziva as though she will make a full recovery_.

"Takes time to see the big picture."

She blinked at him, still in the dressy clothes she'd worn to the final conference. Her mascara was smeared. "You would know, yes?"

Wind blew leaves against the back door. The pool pump hummed. He got up, got her basket of meds and chart. Topamax, Elavil, phenol. Vitamin. Glass of juice, as she said the water made the pills taste how Abby's lab smelled.

Ziva took each one with a small sip and put the cup in the sink. "Did you feel like you were always waiting for…the other shoe to drop?"

She checked in; _right idiom?_

"Yeah."

"Does it get better?"

 _Her rolling eyes, tight fists. A short sleep and then searching, searching for him._

 _Abba?_

"Depends."

She nodded. "Dr. Mennet thinks she can be independent. Eventually. With supports."

"And now?"

"Family counseling with attachment component. Hydrotherapy, speech."

He grunted. "School?"

She looked away. "Liana is terrified she will ruin her future. Her plans are quite precise. She left nothing out."

Ziva rubbed her eyes. Tony's television cast blue light on the hallway walls. "You talk to him?" Gibbs asked.

"I tried. He is very upset."

"About?"

"All of it. He is hurt. He feels like he has failed her. I cannot make him see that this is not his fault."

"You two should go out one night. I'll keep the kid."

She gave him a look. "Will you ever stop calling her that?"

He repacked her meds. "Nope."

"You are lucky she does not seem to mind."

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

 _Her thin face, slumped shoulders. The defeat on her face._

 _The constant refrain:_

 _I will be ok._

 _I will be ok._

 _I_

 _Will_

 _Be_

 _Ok._

"You ok?"

She looked surprised. "I suppose."

He was in for a rough night.

"Don't forget who she is, Ziver."

She blinked. "Did I ever know?"

 _Redefine Ziva's normal—_

"I want to be the mother she needs."

"You will." He made for the basement, steady, sane. "Night, Ziver."

She turned away from him, but threw one last glance over her shoulder. " _Laila tov, Abba."_

. . . .

"Where did they go again, Saba?" Liana put her brush down, careful not to get any stain on her clothes. She chewed her lip. "I keep forgetting."

"The meds do that."

She nodded. "That's what Ema said."

 _She would know._ "They went to a fancy restaurant in Georgetown. Not a good place for kids."

"I'm good," she grumbled.

"Grownups only tonight."

She gave him one of Ziva's skeptical looks. " _You're_ here."

He rinsed the brushes in the utility sink. "Never said I was a grownup."

"You're a grownup for Ema."

He stopped. Water ran down the brushes, down his wrist and sleeve. "You think that?"

"Yes," she said. There was some heat in her tone. "She can't do _everything_ by herself."

He laid the brushes out to dry. "Neither can you."

She stood in the middle of the garage, knobby-kneed. Her pants sagged on her waist. The meds killed her appetite. Ziva had mentioned something about feeding therapy.

Lia blinked, worried her lower lip with her teeth. Did she know where she was?

"I want to make something for Ema." She paused. "And Daddy." She paused again. "Can you teach me?"

Plenty of time to fill since she could blow through a math workbook in two hours. "Sure. Whaddya have in mind?"

She dashed upstairs and back down with her mom's old tablet. "Look at this. Think we could do this with some of my artwork? She always says she likes it."

She held out a picture of wood photo transfers. They could make color copies of her stuff and use a simple gel medium. "Yep," he said.

Lia's face split into a smile. She looked like her mother in the right light. "When can we start?"

"Tomorrow," he said. "0800. That means dressed, breakfast, and down here ready to work by 0750."

Her smile widened. "Like a real job."

"Old clothes—we don't want Mom getting mad that we ruined your good stuff."

"I want to keep it a secret," she blurted. "Make it a surprise like you did with my rocking chair."

"Copy."

She did one of her twitchy little dances. "Ok, I'm going to pick stuff out. I'll be right back, ok?"

Gibbs picked up the paint trays they'd been using for the stain and sealer. "Copy."

"Copy," she echoed. Her skinny legs carried her into the house.

The door slammed. He rinsed the brushes and threw some cat litter on the stain.

Cat litter.

Maybe Li needed a pet.

He sniffed. A real pet.

 _A dog_.

His cell rang. 1945 on a Friday.

DiNozzo on the caller ID. His gut flipped. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"We're at Georgetown," Tony blurted, clearly exhausted. Clearly afraid. "They're moving her to Bethesda ASAP."

"Seizures."

"Can't stop 'em. Restaurant called a bus for us."

 _Pulling up to the house to find the ambulance waiting outside, EMTs with their kits, Liana in the living room with the phone in her hand:_

 _I called 911, Saba. It looked so bad._

"ETA?"

"An hour."

"I'll get Li and meet you there."

"No," DiNozzo burst. "Don't bring her. She doesn't need to see this."

 _Steady on, Anthony_. "Yeah, she does," he said, and ended the call.

Liana was in the doorway, eyes wide in her child's face. "Something bad happened."

"Mom's not doing so hot."

She didn't move. "Seizures."

"Yeah. They're going to take her to Dr. Monroe. We'll meet them there."

She retrieved her coat without another word. Gibbs finished his cleanup, washed his hands, changed into a clean shirt and jacket. He grabbed his keys and wallet, Ziva's folder, her meds list and go-bag.

Liana's shoes were still in their cubby, her backpack hanging on the peg rail he'd made just for her.

"Lia?"

The bathroom light was on, the door closed. Water ran.

And ran.

And ran.

He knocked. "Li?"

"Saba?" she wheedled. Her voice was thin and reedy. "Um, Saba?"

"You ok?"

A long silence then, "No."

The door wasn't locked. He let it swing open a little at a time. "What's up, Li?"

"I did something." She held out her hand. There were bite marks in the fat pad beneath her thumb. Not deep, but bleeding good enough.

Gibbs got the first aid kit from the closet, gut tossing, and doused the wound in hydrogen peroxide. He patted it dry, added a Band-Aid, and held her hand for a moment. She hadn't made a sound.

"What happened?"

Her golden eyes were empty. "I don't want Ema to die."

"Dr. Monroe, me, your dad—we'll all take good care of her."

She swayed. "Me, too."

"And you, too."

His phone buzzed—a text. DiNozzo.

"We better go."

She nodded. "Don't tell, Saba."

"Can't do that, kid."

Liana would not look at him. "Please don't tell."

It could go on all night. Gibbs got her jacket and held it out. "C'mon."

They drove through the early winter dark to Walter Reed and parked in the family lot. He still had his original pass from—

"I don't want Ema to die."

"I know."

She trotted alongside him to the elevator, up to the neuro floor. Ziver's name wasn't on the board. Gibbs steered Liana toward a waiting area at the end of the hall.

"She doesn't have a room yet," she informed him.

"She's not here yet."

"Or she died."

"No, Li."

"You don't know that."

He crouched before her and took her face in his hands. "Your mom and I have an agreement, kid. Trust me—she ain't dead."

She pulled away slowly, eyes wide and unreadable.

"They're bringing her up," DiNozzo blurted. He stood on the tile in his rumpled suit with his hands dangling like fish. There was a smear of blood on his shoulder. Ziva had probably bitten her tongue.

"SitRep."

"We didn't even get to the appetizer," he reported. "Saw her stiffen up. Knew what was coming, but I didn't get her out of her chair in time. Wacked her face good on the way down. Been on more than off ever since."

"Count?"

"Nine at last check, but they wouldn't let me stay for admit."

Liana sat down and folded her hands. "When can we see her?"

Tony rubbed his face, swaying, eyes everywhere but on his kid. "The nurses are going to page Dr. Monroe and give her a checkup and some medicine. Then we can see her."

"How long will that take?"

"Could be a while, Lee-lee."

She fidgeted. "But how _lo—"_

He threw his hands up. "I don't _know_ , Liana. If I _did_ , I would _tell_ you."

Liana tucked herself small and fell silent.

Tony turned on his heel, shoulders high, neck stiff, and opened his mouth to say something. Gibbs nodded toward the hallway. _Campfire._

He followed. The dutiful son.

"Talk to her, DiNozzo."

He ran a hand over his head and stood his hair on end. "There's nothing to say. We'll know something once they get her on meds and the EEG."

He pointed at the door, lips stiff, heat creeping up his neck. "Get your ass in there," he said lowly, slowly, "and _talk_ to your _daughter_."

DiNozzo craned his neck to look at Liana, frozen in her uncomfortable chair. One finger toyed with the bandage on her thumb.

Gibbs put one hand on Tony's bicep. It twitched. He gave it a firm squeeze, anger subsiding. "Anthony."

Tony nodded. He stepped back into the waiting area. "Lee-lee? I'm sorry, honey. I lost my temper."

Gibbs heard her voice rise, teary, afraid, and then Tony's soft comfort-noises.

They needed a minute. Or ten. Or thousand.

He went to the nurses' station. The desk attendant looked up. "David-DiNozzo," he said. No preamble, no question.

"Dr. Monroe is in transit. She can talk to you after she gives Ms. David an exam."

"Where is she?"

"Limbo."

Pre-admit testing. He took the elevator down to the desk there, where he blurted her name again and was motioned into a pod of curtains. Ziva was in the second one, already on the EEG, street clothes replaced with a hospital gown. She trembled, eyelids twitching, mouth contorted.

He'd promised Liana that seizures didn't hurt.

Gibbs took her hand, mindful of the IV. He'd check her chart, but she was probably getting the usual cocktail. They'd offer Tylenol later if she woke with a fever.

He dragged a chair closer. Sat. Waited. Ziva seized. The EEG ticked.

Dr. Monroe tiptoed in. Clogs, white coat, hesitant eyes. "Hey."

Ziva's neck craned. Her ropy forearms tightened.

Gibbs snarled. "We gotta make this stop."

Monroe pressed her lips together. "She's not a great surgical candidate."

"She's not a crappy one, either."

Doc checked the readout, vitals, chart. "I don't feel right about a resection procedure."

At least he had her on the line. "VNS?"

"You're looking at a reduction in seizures, not an elimination."

Tremors rattled the bed and its occupant. "Bet she'd go for that."

Monroe bit her lips again. "The meds should be on board soon. What's going on at home?"

Of course she'd pry. "The kid's having a rough time."

"How much stress?"

"A lot."

"What's on deck to make it better?"

"Bunch of therapy. Meds. Pulled her out of school."

"What did the evaluation say?"

"PTSD. Delays. Autism."

She nodded. "Think it's a good idea to think about surgery with all that going on?"

"Surgery, or more of this?" He held Ziva's cold, clammy hand.

Monroe nodded again. "Admit paperwork is almost done. Where's everyone else?"

"Upstairs."

"We'll have her up there within the hour."

Ziva was finally quiet, though the readout still registered seizures. Her hand was a little warmer in his.

He kissed her knuckles. The EEG finally paused its jumping.

"Attagirl," he sighed.

A team moved her up to the neuro unit. Liana waited for them in the hallway, face puffy, but smiling. "Daddy said we can see her in a minute."

He rubbed her head. She'd need help combing the rats' nests out of her hair. "Yep."

She did another of her twitchy dances. "He said she's sleeping but I can still say goodnight. Can we ask the nurses, maybe, if I can sleep over?"

"You can come back tomorrow."

She looked sad. "We probably can't start our project."

Tony looked interested. "Project?"

Gibbs smirked. "Beeswax, DiNozzo."

"Right. C'mon, wildcat."

Lia went willingly to Ziva's' room. The lights were low. Three chairs had been set up at the bedside. Liana reached through the raised safety rail to touch her mother's arm.

DiNozzo hung back. "Doc said she wants to talk surgery when Zi's up."

"Yep."

His eyes roved. "I'm more worried about Lee-lee."

"Yep."

He was quiet for a minute. "She told me she hurt herself."

Gibbs grunted. His gut ached. "I kept an eye on her, DiNozzo."

"Not your fault," Tony said quickly. He stared at his wife, his daughter, their linked hands and dark hair. "I never took parental leave."

"Nope."

"This is all hands on deck."

They were caught in a riptide, dragged farther and farther from shore. _Now's the time, son._ "Yeah."

Lia clutched her father's hand with both of hers. "I know I'm not allowed to stay."

Tony looked down at her, knuckles white, smile forced. Did she notice? "We can come back tomorrow."

That _where-am-I_ look flashed across her face. "Let me say goodnight."

She slipped away. DiNozzo sighed. "I don't want her to be someone else, but this—"

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

"Be the dad she needs, DiNozzo."

He wiped his mouth. "Time's up, Lee-lee."

She gave Ziva's arm one last pat and took her father's hand again. " _Laila tov, Saba_."

Gibbs kissed her cheek. Another rare move. Maybe she needed it. " _Spokoini nocheh_ , kid."

. . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**I get so much love from you. I give it all back-thank you all so much for your reviews and follows and favorites.**

 **Disclaim: no.**

 **Thanks: girleffect, Amilyn**

 **. . . .**

 _"How is Ziva?" Eli David's expression softened, but there was still a hard glint in his eye._

 _Gibbs gave him a curt nod. "Every day is a battle. Good thing you taught her how to fight."_

 _David's chin raised. "She is handicapped."_

 _"Unless there's some miracle you know about that I don't."_

 _"Please, Gibbs. I am a grieving father."_

 _Heat in his belly and throat. "Bull. You were more than happy to hand her off. You get to move on. She doesn't."_

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

Gibbs jolted, back aching, and wiped sleep from his eyes. Dr. Monroe was by on rounds. Ziva was still on the EEG. She checked the overnight readout. "I talked with a colleague."

She was baiting him. He took it. "Whaddya got?"

"How do you think Ziva would feel about holding off on surgery until spring?"

Ziva was motionless, breathing slowly, face smooth, sleeping off the cascade of seizures. "Another six months of this?"

"I think things at home need to settle before we can do that kind of procedure. It's just a one- or two-night stay, but at least two weeks at home to recover. Liana needs to be ok with that."

"She'll be fine."

Monroe smirked at him. "They can't co-sleep while Ziva is recovering. We can't have Liana bumping her and knocking those wires loose—we could see vocal cord paralysis, jaw pain, drop seizures..."

Liana spent five of seven nights in her parents' bed. "Once she heals."

"Once we start the device, maybe. Not before. And _if_ we all agree to go through with the procedure. In the meantime, I want to try adding a newer anticonvulsant to her med regimen and a Vitamin D supplement. Does she need a referral for a counselor, or would she want to see Gretchen again?"

He shrugged. "Not my business."

"Make it your business."

He crossed his arms, moody, brooding.

 _Tired_.

Winter rain pinged on the window. Monroe logged out of the computer and looked at him. "I'm keeping her at least forty-eight hours. We'll get meds and vitamins on board and hopefully she'll be up when I come back for night rounds. What's the schedule look like for the rest of the crew?"

Gibbs shrugged again. "DiNozzo's taking leave. Kid's not in school."

She nodded. "Who's she seeing?"

Another shrug. "The took her to Kennedy Krieger."

"She's getting the best care. Ziva will sleep for a while yet. Go home, take a shower, take a nap. Update Tony and Liana or bring him in tonight. I'll be back after 2200, barring emergencies."

Ziva inhaled sharply. Gibbs' hand found her brow. She settled, jumped, settled. "What do you need from us, Ziver?" he whispered.

 _What do you need from me_?

She sighed. He kissed her brow, walked the white-tile hallway, drove across down beneath steel-grey skies. Raised his collar against the rain. Dashed in the garage. His—her?—picnic table stood on the plastic drop-cloth. Paintbrushes dried on the back of the utility sink. He threw his wet overcoat on a sawhorse and ran a hand over his hair.

Gibbs was tired.

Gibbs was old.

Gibbs wanted a drink.

He opened a high cabinet, pushed aside cans of spray paint, liquid adhesive, WD-40. He pulled down a dusty bottle of Maker's Mark, dumped an old baby food jar of wingnuts on the workbench.

"Saba?"

He slid the bottle behind a short stack of scrap wood. "Hey, Li."

She stood in the doorway, haloed by light, her eyes lost in shadow. "How's Ema?"

"Hangin' in."

She was quiet, biting her bottom lip. "So she's not better?"

"Not yet."

Quiet.

He turned around. "Dr. Monroe is going to add a new med and some vitamins. Then we'll talk about surgery later. Maybe next year."

She cocked her head. "Not now?"

"Things are pretty stressful right now."

"Because of me."

 _Yeah._ "You've been through a lot Li."

 _You both have._

She was holding something, he realized. "I don't know how to be another way."

Gibbs studied her thin, worried face, her long, uncombed hair. Her grey cotton pajamas and birdlike fingers. Did DiNozzo say she was short for her age? "I don't want you to be someone else."

He surprised her with that.

Hell, he surprised _himself_.

She held out a manila folder. "I want to make these for Ema and Abba."

He took it. "Abba?"

"I call everyone Hebrew names but him. That's not fair."

He nodded. Opened the folder—all the drawings were eight-by-eleven. "You wanna crop these to make different sizes, or keep 'em uniform?"

"Dress-right-dress," she echoed. "Um…I don't know."

He recognized colored pencil drawings of Pueblo clay jars, a Hopewell raven carving, an Eagle totem from Key Marco, Sioux beadwork on the yoke of a dance dress. He'd paced the marble floors of gallery after gallery while she and Ziver studied the museum displays. "You draw these from memory?"

"Yes."

 _Damn, kid_. "Got a theme?"

She shook her head. "I just picked the ones I thought I did best. That Chaco Canyon canteen has some eraser smudges, but I thought maybe they would go away if—"

"No one will see them."

She closed her mouth, twisted her fingers together, said nothing as he continued to peruse the artwork she'd chosen for their project. A Seminole patchwork shawl. Two picture stuck together—a Tlingit eagle totem, and a different piece; a skyscape as seen through tall grass. A stand of cypress trees, the knees wet a foot or so. The colors were vibrant, intense.

 _Florida_.

Liana made a go at it. "I didn't mean that to go in the pile," she rushed. "Here. I'll throw it away."

"Li—"

She grabbed for it again, but he held it out of reach. "Saba, I'll take it. It's not even good."

"I like it."

Her features tightened, breath quickened. He was pissing her off. "It's terrible."

Gibbs held it between his thumb and forefinger. "What is this, Liana?"

"Nothing," she huffed. "It's _bad_."

He put the drawing on the workbench and crouched before her so she could look him in the eye. "No, you're not, Li."

Her eyes went vacant. "Saba?"

"Huh?"

Liana swayed. He steadied her by the same wrist she'd tried to bite a chunk from. "I did not mean to draw that. I wanted to make…something _else_."

He knew about that. "You got others like this?"

She nodded miserably, eyes wet.

"Go get 'em."

She hesitated, a protest on her lips, but turned and disappeared, only to reappear again with another folder, that one stuffed, the edges bent and town from being shoved in drawers or under beds. "Here," she grumbled, and gave it to him.

Gibbs opened it: a cypress stand in a river of grass, a banyan tree in a dead-grass park, broken playground equipment, an empty beach just before sunrise, a rusted, windowless van. Graffiti on corrugated tin, a tattered tent beneath a highway overpass. Cracked blacktop. A basketball hoop with no net against a blazing hot sky. A sagging stucco building, a half-obscured sign: _New Life Family Cent—_

She'd drawn her whole life before them.

"Liana."

Her fists were clenched, her face white except for two high red patches on her cheeks. "Don't tell," she begged. Her voice was soft and cracking. "Please, Saba. Let's throw them aw—"

"No."

She fidgeted, toying with defiance. "Saba, I don't like those. I want—"

"You don't get to throw away the past, Li."

She snatched the dusty baby food jar and flung it hard against the garage door with a wordless shout. It shattered. Glass rained on the cement floor. "I _hate_ you," she hissed.

But not at him.

"Li," he tried.

"No," she spat.

He got lower, tented his fingers on the freezing floor. Liana was barefoot. "Li," he tried again, softer.

"No," she repeated, also softer. "No, I don't."

They both fell silent.

She raised her wrist to her mouth, but didn't bite down.

"Li," Gibbs whispered.

Liana blinked. "Mommy."

 _Mommy._

"How about we go find your dad?"

"Mommy went to sleep."

He took both her cold hands in his. "Yeah."

"She won't wake up."

"She will."

"It's too hot."

Liana's bare toes were red with the garage chill. "Let's go inside."

She went silently up the ramp and stood in the middle of the kitchen, blinking hazily in the low light. Gibbs watched for a minute. Satisfied she wasn't going anywhere, he made a pot of coffee.

Liana jumped when the first spatters hit the bottom of the glass pot and hissed. "Saba?"

"Yeah, Li."

"Saba, where is Ema?"

"Hospital, Lee-lee." She burst into tears. Gibbs wiped a hand over his face and composed himself. "Hey," he said, crouching again before her. His knees would give him hell later. "Hey, they're taking good care of her."

"No," she carped, sounding much younger than her seven years. "They can't."

"They can," he promised. "They're good doctors and nurses."

Tears cut streaks on her pale face. Her nose was running. Gibbs handed her a tissue and she looked at it as if she didn't know what to do. He took it back and cleaned her face.

Liana studied him. He stared back. "You with me?"

She nodded, wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Don't tell, Saba."

"I have to, Li."

She looked around. "I don't want to go."

 _Back there again, huh?_ "You're not, kid."

"My mom will be mad."

"No, Li."

"I tried to untie the knot but it was too tight."

He took her shoulders in his hands. "You're not going anywhere, Liana."

"There were firefighters."

Gibbs needed backup but he couldn't leave her alone. "I know. They took good care of you."

"It was hot."

"You were dehydrated."

She swallowed, clicked her tongue. "I want my dad."

He found Tony was asleep in his bed, wearing yesterday's clothes. "DiNozzo," he growled. He was angry. _So_ angry. "Get the hell up."

Tony sat up, hair on end, face creased. There were deep, dark circles under his squinting eyes. "Boss?"

"Kid needs you."

He stood, unsteady, confused. "She was up all night complaining of a rash. Couldn't get her to go to sleep. Couldn't get her to stay asleep." He yawned and waved the portable landline still in his hand. "Left messages everywhere. Thought about taking her to the ER, but they would have just sedated and warehouse her."

 _You ain't doin' nothing I can't do at home, Doc._

"She needs you, DiNozzo."

Tony stumbled out to the kitchen. Liana stood vacant-eyed and silent. "Lia?" He paused to clear his throat. "Hey, Lee-lee. What's up?"

Gibbs poured each of them a coffee. Liana didn't respond until he turned around. "I'm ok, Abba."

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

"No, you're not," DiNozzo insisted. "But we'll get there together, ok? Let's have some breakfast and maybe a shower, and then we'll call Dr. Mennet to see if she can talk to us."

She looked dazed. "What about Ema?"

Gibbs downed half a cup. "I'm on it, kid."

Smoothie complete, Tony handed her the cup and ran a hand over his hair. "Can I shower first?"

Gibbs glanced at him over the rim of his coffee cup. Tony looked tired, frazzled, bewildered.

In other words, _totally destroyed_.

"Go," he ordered. "Lee-lee, you're with me for now."

She sipped smoothie and waited for her father to leave the room before asking: "Do you think he will let me say goodbye to Ema before we go?"

"Your mom's resting, Li."

She swallowed and let out a long, shuddery sigh. "Would you give her a note, then?"

He drained his coffee cup, stomach gurgling. His head throbbed. And he was going to choke someone out if they kept talking in circles. "Liana," he said slowly. "You are going with your dad to see the doc and then you are coming straight home. Maybe then you can see your mom."

She went silent. DiNozzo appeared with wet hair. "Your turn, Li."

Gibbs gave him a look. _Not alone._

He stammered. "Uh, and I'll hang out with you while you scrub, _capiche_?"

Liana tiptoed away. Tony mouthed _thanks_ and followed.

Gibbs poured another coffee and drank it while the rain pooled on the deck. 0900 and hardly daylight.

He needed to go home.

It was dumb to get in the truck for two blocks, but he did, and collapsed on his couch still in his rain-damp shirt and jeans. His eyes closed. His phone buzzed; probably DiNozzo, probably telling him they were leaving.

There was a Western playing on his scratchy black-and-white TV. Had he turned it on?

Gibbs could not find the line where the world ended and he began.

 _Flashing blue lights. His trigger finger itched. It was hot. Steam rose from the sidewalk beneath his boots._

 _Drop the weapon._

 _A…park? Rustling leaves. A streetlight. Some vague metal shapes in the distance. The sky a thin blue line beyond._

 _DiNozzo: Cover me._

 _He went ahead into the black, gun drawn, footfalls steady, certain._

 _Water somewhere. Powerlines buzzed. A splash, a yelp. A shrill chiming sound—_

His phone. "Yeah, Gibbs."

Anya. Ziva's favorite nurse. His, too. "You wanna come in? Meds aren't doing what we'd hoped."

He blinked at the clock on his old VCR. 1300. "Yeah."

The hospital campus was hushed under the deep grey sky. Anya's square jaw was firm under the hospital hallway lights. His wet boots squelched on the tile. "SitRep."

"She got Dilantin at 0800 but the EEG is still jumping. Nothing major, but even the storming should have stopped by now. Wanted your input before we gave her anything else."

He stalked off, irritated, weary. Ziva's room was dim, the machines turned down, curtains drawn. Someone had put a piece of egg crate behind her head, but the tips of her ears were already red and tender-looking. Her eyes were open and roving, but unseeing. The EEG registered a series of spikes, then nothing, then more spikes.

Gibbs sighed. Everything hurt his old bones. "C'mon, Ziver."

She blinked, not present. Shoes squeaked by. The EEG peaked and valleyed, peaked and valleyed. He got a coffee. He got a cot. He watched the light change through the slit between the curtains.

Monroe came in at 1455 and gave him a shrug. "What do you think?"

"This sucks."

She nodded. "What do you want for her?"

"I want this to stop."

 _All of this. I want_ all _of this to stop._

"If she's under as much stress as you say, I'd like to give her a little Xanax and see if that slows things down."

 _For her, maybe. But everyone else? He wanted to speed them up_. _Double-time._ He nodded. She wrote the order and ten minutes later a CNA administered the medication via Ziva's IV.

Ten minute ticked by. Twenty. Twenty-three. At twenty-four the EEG went quiet. Her breathing evening out. She sighed as though in relief. He kissed her brow between the wires. "Attagirl."

Anya threw an extra blanket over her. Gibbs nodded his thanks and navigated through the rain to the Navy Yard. The lot. The elevator. The lab. Abby. Abby as usual.

He missed it. He didn't miss it. "Abbs."

She spun from the monitor and grinned. "Gibbs! _Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!_ I'm so happy to see you!" She sobered. "I heard things have been difficult."

He put a Caf-Pow on the desk. "I need your help."

"Let's make a schedule for respite. One of us can take Lia for a few hours every few days. We can go to the museum, or the bookstore, or take her for pizza, or—"

"Can you hack hospital records?"

She folded her long fingers together. "Uh, not _legally_ , but—"

"Lyuda Poperny."

Her painted mouth turned down. She typed, printed, put it in a folder. Was it really so easy? "I don't like—"

"What else you got?"

She hesitated, boots shifting on the worn tile. "Gibbs, there are databases I can check, but—"

"She's desperate," he interrupted. " _We're_ desperate, Abbs."

She nodded morosely, clicked and typed some more, and presented him with a second fat folder of printouts. "If anyone asks—"

"Fell off a truck."

Abby gave him a tight smile. "Zivvie doing any better?"

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

"Jury's out."

He turned to go. She snatched him back and into a tight hug. "Text me when it's ok to come by."

Her arms around him were strong and certain. "Yeah, Abbs."

She stepped back, blew him a kiss just before the elevator doors closed.

He would text her tomorrow.

It was still raining. It would rain forever. He trudged up the ramp to the front door, paused with his hand on the knob.

 _Ziva's apartment on fire, everything gone._

 _Ziva…that's not your home._

 _Her dark, dark gaze, pursed mouth. No, it is not._

 _Michael. Crier. Tony. Eli, Ari, Tali. Her mother._

 _Her whole life before—he forgot. When she convulsed, when she cried, when the pain was so bad—he forgot. He was only her father, then. Her only father. But not before._

The living room lamps were lit. The kitchen can lights blazed. Splashing could be heard from the master bath, then Tony's voice. The whole house smelled like roasted chicken and soap. He put the folder on the bookshelf—out of sight, for now—and followed the noise to the master suite.

The bathroom door was ajar. Tony leaned against the sink, shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, pants damp like he'd been kneeling by the tub. Lia was in the bath, bubbles to her eyeballs, hair in a towel-turban.

She gave him a shy look. Her face was puffy. Her eyes were tired, but clear. "Hi, Saba."

He nodded, watching, waiting. "Hey, Li."

DiNozzo radiated fatigue. "Hey, Boss."

"Mom's doing better," he told Liana. "Bet you can see her tomorrow."

She nodded, wide-eyed. "The medicine is working?"

"Yep."

"What did they give her?"

He considered lying, then considered against it. "Xanax, vitamins, and a new anticonvulsant."

She scooped up a handful of bubbles and squeezed it. "Do you think she can come home soon?"

"If she doesn't have any more seizures."

She squeezed another handful of suds. "Ok. Abba, I'm ready to get out."

Tony snatched a towel. "Ok." Gibbs turned to leave the room, but DiNozzo caught his arm. "Let me put her to bed."

 _Wait for me._

Gibbs raised his chin. The bulldog edition waited at the dining table. He opened it. His readers were…where?

Several minutes passed. A door snicked shut and then Tony came out, bleary-eyed. They were both on the verge of collapse. "Boss," he said softly.

"Hit the rack, DiNozzo."

He gave a half-nod. "We saw a counselor today. Well… _I_ saw a counselor. He sent Liana into an observation room and gave me an earpiece. It was like interrogation, but…" He paused, swallowed. He'd been crying, Gibbs realized. "Eric fed me things to do and say. He had me look at her— _really_ look—and say things like, _I see how bright your eyes are_ , and _I love how you're looking at me right now_ , and…I thought for sure she would blow me off. You know how she does, right?" He paused again, crossed his arms, swayed. Who was he talking to? "But Eric told me to tell her she was pretty and…her _face_ , Boss. It was so…open. She never looked like that. Not to me. Did I ever compliment her like that?" He rubbed his face. "But I got down on the floor with her, and fed her sweets, and just held her for a while." His gaze turned distant. "It changed something. It's like she gets it now that I'm in her corner. She hasn't said much, but—"

"Doesn't need to," Gibbs finished for him.

"Yeah. I should go see Ziva. I haven't—"

"Rack, DiNozzo. She's out for the night."

Tony nodded dumbly, rubbed his eyes with his fists like a child. "So I'll head out first-light—"

"Copy."

"What they give her?"

"Bunch of stuff. Xanax."

"She comin' home with a scrip?"

"Dunno."

"So probably."

Gibbs sniffed his agreement. Tony turned, like he was going to bed, but abandoned it halfway through. "Something happened to me, too, in that session with Li."

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

"Yeah."

"Eric had me look right in her eyes and tell her...and she _was_ , Boss. She was—she _is—_ beautiful. He kept feeding me stuff to say, but I meant all of it. Like the script was inside my head."

New coordinates. New mission. The ship was turning slowly, slowly. "Proud of you, Anthony."

His weary head bobbed. "Thanks."

"Rack."

"Yeah. If you hear Li—"

"I'll get you."

"Thanks."

Gibbs looked at the paper. _Real Estate: Smart Homes Don't Always Mean Easy._

No, they certainly don't.

Tony was still standing, swaying, arms crossed.

"Night, DiNozzo," he said again. _Get your ass in the rack._

He jumped, nodded. His eyes were half-closed. He navigated by rote, by touch, to the master bedroom doorway. "Night, Dad," he mumbled, not present. Not not-present. "Love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, I really made you wait. Thank you, all, for the review, the follows, the favorites-treasured, all of it.**

 **Disclaimer: nope**

 **Thanks: yous all**

 **. . . .**

Gibbs shrugged into his USMC sweatshirt and a pair of slippers that had been a Marine Corps birthday gift from Abby. He rubbed his eyes, ran a comb over his wet hair. Cold sunlight poured through the windows.

He'd slept.

They'd _all_ slept.

DiNozzo and the kid _still_ slept.

Gibbs made coffee, snagged the paper off the porch, broomed a few leaves off the entry mat, stacked Tony's errant shoes. The folder on the bookshelf caught his eye.

He could skip the news this morning.

 _Poperny, Lyuda Darja. DOB: 12/12/86. 34wks1d gest. Chronic social disarray, no prenatal care, substance abuse. PosUA. Baby Girl Poperny pos13pan, amph, coc, heroin. NICU, CPS hold. Referrer: LICSW Bridget _. (305)_._

 _Mother self-reports drug use during pg but denies baby affected. Insists she will check out AMA with child but has no car seat, no transportation. Transf. to MH unit pending. Recs: Hands-On Parenting, Med. Management, housing support._

 _Baby Girl Poperny unable to maintain core temp. Tremors, high cry consist. w/opiod exposure. Feeding support, kangaroo care. Recs: morphine wean, fluids A/N._

And yet Liana had been released to her mother five weeks later, weaned from the drugs but needing prescription formula and reflux medication. Both scrips went unfilled.

Everyone wondered why she wouldn't eat.

Gibbs' coffee was cold. He didn't want it, anyway.

 _Referrer: Maria_, ANSWERS Women's Shelter and Maternal Support, Miami Shores. Mom frustrated with baby's (3mo) fussiness, inability to soothe. Rec: Hands-On Parenting, Med. Management, WIC. No findings of neglect or abuse._

 _Referrer: Maria_, ANSWERS Women's Shelter and Maternal Support, Miami Shores. Mother reports lack of attachment w/child (6mo), desire to place in out-of-home care. Baby has feeding difficulties, irritability, as per self-report. No indications of abuse or neglect. CPS hold expired 48hrs._

 _Referrer: Angela_, New Life Family Center. Mother denied bottle to baby in dining room, no formula, not BF. Recs: WIC, HOP, housing support. Obs: Mother dilated pupils, pallor, scabs on hand (poss. IV drug use), no appetite. Child pale, listless, crying. CPS hold expired 48hrs._

 _Referrer: Marcus _, Miami Gospel Mission. Documented physical abuse: mother struck child on face w/open hand. Did not enter night lottery for beds. Left 9pm w/child. Severe substance abuse/mental hlth issues._

Nothing for a year while they wandered back and forth across the Tuttle Causeway. Lyuda had made one appearance at Miami-Dade Housing Authority but hadn't entered the lottery for a subsidized apartment. Office workers noted that Liana was sunburned and had a rash.

 _I got sick from the bugs once,_ she'd said. DiNozzo thought it was malaria.

The final intake report: _Referrer: Driver Engineer Marcel _, Collier County Rescue 106. Child found tied to doorway at 1100. Name: Liana. DOB: unknown, Age: 4, self-report. Disclosed abandonment. Dehydrated, signs of malnutrition. Fluids admin. 1110. Transported to Nicklaus Children's Hospital_. _Assigned intake worker: Bruce Hartwell._

Six months later her case had been transferred to dependency, then to permanent planning. Two families had come forward as adoptive resources; both had backed out within days. Efforts to reach Lyuda or her family were futile. He checked the date on the last juvenile court summons: she'd been dead 3 months.

 _Placement Pending: ICPC. Bethesda, MD. Ziva David, Anthony DiNozzo. Home study approved 7/25. Receiving SW assigned: Montgomery County DSS._

She'd arrived soon after and slowly, slowly it had all unraveled. Gibbs' gut pinched, his spine ached.

How much of this could have been avoided?

And did that mean she wouldn't have come to them?

DiNozzo stood across the table, smiling, showered. "Morning." He raised a mug. "Thanks."

Gibbs shoved the folder at him. "You'll wanna look at this."

His smile faded. "You had Abby—"

"Yep."

"Is this gonna piss me off?"

"Yep."

He shoved it back. "Want something to eat? I'm starved."

"Nope."

Tony shrugged. "Suit yourself."

That nugget of worry: "Where's the kid?"

"Sleeping."

"Didn't hear her last night."

"She wasn't up."

0730\. "Said you'd be up at first light."

"Didn't get a call. Did you?"

Gibbs didn't like to leave Ziva alone.

"She's fine," Tony said.

Liana's bedroom door banged open. There were a few soft _thuds_ and she wobbled out with bedhead and sleep creases. She looked blankly at Gibbs, then her father, and her face broke into a shy smile. She put her fingers in her mouth. "Hi, Abba."

Tony dropped an egg in a bowl and scooped her into a tight hug. He picked her up. "Hi, little love. Did you sleep good?"

"Yeah," she slurred, smiling still.

He held her tightly, smelled her hair, shifted her onto his hip. She was seven. She was not. "Want a smoothie?"

"No, thanks."

"Ok," Tony agreed. No pushing, no cajoling.

 _Attaboy, DiNozzo._ Gibbs dumped his mug and put it in the dishwasher. "Gotta go see Ziver."

Liana opened her mouth, but Tony put his finger to her lips. He spoke slowly, lowly. "We're supposed to check in with Dr. Mennet this morning. Then I need to pick up some medicine for you. _Then_ we'll see Ema, ok?"

She nodded and put her head down on his shoulder.

Gibbs shrugged into a coat, grabbed his keys and wallet, tugged on his boots. He felt impatient, irritated. Why didn't they call?

"Bye, Saba." He turned. Liana sat on her father's hip, arms looped around his neck. Her pajamas pink and patterned with moose wearing scarves.

"Bye, kid."

"I love you," she called.

"Me, too," DiNozzo sang out, smirking.

He meant it. So did Gibbs. "Copy," he grumbled, and swung out the door.

. . .

Ziva's eyes were open and clear, but tired. She offered a small smile when he kissed her head between the wires. The EEG registered normal activity. "How ya feeling?"

One shoulder moved. Her mouth turned down. Not all the pistons were firing.

"Anyone talk to you yet?"

A nod. She swallowed.

"And?" he prodded.

She swallowed again, wincing. Sore throat? "Xanax. She will send home with. Tomorrow. And something else. L'ana?"

Gibbs sighed. She'd be confused and uncoordinated for a week yet. He dragged over a chair, and sat. "Doin' ok. Got some sleep last night. Abby pulled a bunch of stuff for you. You'll want to look at it when you get home."

Ziva's brows rose. "Hack?"

"I don't know nothin'."

She put her hand on his. "Thank you."

"Not fair you didn't get it in the first place."

She looked away. Her lashes fluttered. He tensed—another seizure?—but relaxed when she looked back at him. "Tony ok?"

"Everyone got a good night's sleep."

She always knew when he was holding back. "And?"

"They went to therapy yesterday. Attachment stuff."

 _Liana in her moose pajamas. Tony cutting the dirty shoelace with his knife, scooping her off the hot firehouse steps._

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

He nodded. "DiNozzo did good. Lee-lee, too. They wanna see you."

She shook her head, wincing. Headache. She plucked the sleeve of her hospital gown. "No. Not…."

She wanted a shower, a comb, and the clothes from her go-bag. "Gonna be a bitch to wash out your hair," he griped.

Ziva plucked one of the sensors from her temple and scraped at the leftover adhesive. "Then get started."

Teresa, the EEG tech, retrieved everything and left them with a bottle of baby oil to help with the glue. Gibbs dragged her chair over. "Outta bed, David."

She transferred with some difficulty. He ran the shower to warm it up and laid out her clothes while she did was she could on her own.

"Abba?"

Hair-washing was a challenge on a good day. He shampooed, rinsed, used the baby oil, and shampooed again. Ziva hardly winced when he combed out the snarls, and held her arms out for a transfer once she was dressed.

She teetered on the edge of overexertion. Probably would for the next week. Her gaze wandered to the door, though. "They are coming?" she asked.

"Said so."

She drifted, eyes closing, but jolted and lifted her head. "Not yet?"

"That was ten seconds, Ziver."

"Oh."

She drifted again. Gibbs' phone buzzed—a text from DiNozzo. _Running late. Let her sleep._

Ziva sighed. He nudged the blankets higher and texted back: _Li ever see a GI?_

Ten seconds and it rang. "What do you mean?" Tony demanded.

"Reflux."

"Copy. You know there's a whole thing called 'adoption medicine'? I'm taking Lee-lee at 1100 to a pediatrician over in Potomac that sees only adopted kids. You should see the website-"

Ziva opened her eyes and scowled. "Better get over here before that."

"What's your twenty?"

"Ten or less."

DiNozzo hung up. Gibbs replaced his phone in the holster. "They're coming. Lia's got a check-up in Potomac with a new doc." he told her.

She nodded. "Water?"

The pitcher, the cup, as always. He poured and she sipped, taking breaths between. It was so much work to bounce back after all this.

 _All this_.

"When can you eat?"

A shrug.

She'd perk up if she could get a little sugar. "Want me to go—"

"Hold your horses," DiNozzo said. He had a drink carrier in one hand and Liana's hand in the other. "We come with offerings."

Liana did a wiggly, nervous dance, eyes on her mother. "Hi, Ema."

Ziva waved her over. "Come, _motek_."

Lia tiptoed over. "How do you feel?"

Ziva glanced at him. Gibbs gave her a stern look. _Don't you lie to her._ "Not great," she admitted. "Not _yet_. Soon, though."

Liana nodded, chewing her lip. "Abba said you can come home tomorrow."

Ziva's eyebrows rose. " _Abba_?"

Lia shrunk. "Um, yeah." She held out a smoothie with both hands. "Here."

Ziva drank, eyes closed in enjoyment. Color rose in her cheeks. "Favorite," she sighed.

Her daughter's peaked little face brightened. "I know. I told Abba which flavor to get because I always watch what you get so I remember."

Ziva cupped her cheek. "Good girl. _Abba_?"

Lia went red. "Um, I just realized that I call everyone else a Hebrew name but him and that's not fair."

Side-eye. Gibbs smirked. Moms always knew. "That is all?"

She looked at Tony. Tony let her arm fall across Liana's shoulders. "Lee-lee and I spent some good time together yesterday. It really helped us, huh?"

Liana leaned into him. "Yeah," she said timidly. "It was, um, _nice_."

Gibbs stifled a snort. _Probably saved her life._

DiNozzo smoothed her hair, tied back with some bow-headband thing. Did Kelly wear those? "We'll go again on Friday morning. Ema can join us if she's up for it, right?"

Ziva's gaze drifted before focusing on Liana. "You needed me and I was not there. I am sorry."

"It's ok," Liana said quickly. She shifted from foot to foot. "I know you can't help it."

"But we can try," she interrupted. "New medication for now, and perhaps surgery in the spring."

Liana was trying not to look worried. "And then you'll be better, right?"

Ziva motioned to the room around her. "It can only help with _this,_ yes?"

She nodded, wordless, smoothie cup sweating in her hand.

"I am sad when I cannot be with you. I am embarrassed," Ziva confessed. "This is not how I wanted things to be."

"Me, either," Liana agreed. Her eyes were down. Gibbs took the smoothie from her hand and put it on the table.

Tony lifted her onto the bed. She crawled up next to her mother and settled in. "What do you need, Lee-lee?" he asked.

"Nothing," she squeaked.

He cocked his head, thinking. "When you knew you were coming to us—that this was the real deal—what did you think about?"

"Nothing," she maintained. Her fingers twisted.

"Tell us, Lia," Ziva said softly.

She thought for a minute, eyes on Gibbs. He had half a mind to make himself scarce. Half a mind to stick around.

"I wished I'd brought a present for you, but since I didn't I decided I was going to be good," she started slowly, eyes roving. "Like _perfect._ Because _everything_ was _perfect_. Like a story. Like a _fairy tale_." She pulled a face. "But I don't like fairy tales. And there were things no one told me about—"

"About me," Ziva interrupted.

She blinked. "But Saba told me and then I looked it up on the internet when Tim gave me a laptop and I learned that you could _die_ from seizures and I just started getting so scared—"

"Lia," Tony jumped in, but Gibbs gave him a glare. _Let her finish_.

"And I was scared that if you knew I was scared I would get sent back." Her voice rose in volume and tempo. "And then it was just so _bad_ all the _time_ and sometimes I'm sure you're mad at me or you don't like me." She stopped to suck in a breath. "Sometimes I don't know where I am. It's like I forget, and then I'm mad that I forgot. That was when I hurt myself but it wasn't the first time I did it and I felt really ashamed. I didn't want to do it again. I _don't._ " She paused, panting. Flyaways haloed her face. Her eyes were wild and golden. "My stomach hurts all the time. It hurts to eat. Sometimes it hurts to breathe."

Gibbs felt his breath leave in a rush. Tony and Ziva looked equally sucker-punched.

 _How had they let it get this bad?_

Liana started sobbing. Ziva pulled her close. Tony stood with his hands in his pockets, head down. He was thinking, waiting. _Planning._

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly.

"Sh."

Ziva hummed a crackly tune and stroked her daughter's hair.

Eventually the crying stopped. Ziva wiped Liana's face. Tony stroked her wrist with the back of one finger. "I'm glad you told us. That was really brave."

 _Attaboy_ , Gibbs thought.

"We got five more minutes with Ema and then we have to go to your doctor's appointment."

"Ok," Liana agreed.

Ziva continued to stroke her hair. "Abba is going to tell the doctor everything you said. We need to make sure you are safe. I think you need a new medication for your anxiety."

"I already have it," Liana said. "We picked it up this morning. I never took it before."

New drugs for a new start. Gibbs would get Ziver's new scrips from the pharmacy downstairs. Gibbs closed his eyes, ran a hand over his hair. He needed to talk a walk. A hike. Out of town.

A beep. Tony: "Time's up, Lee-lee."

She kissed her mother and slid off the bed. "Bye," she said tearfully.

Ziva kissed her fingertips and touched them Liana's cheek. "Soon."

More kisses exchanged. Tony whispered something in Ziva's ear and she nodded, a tiny smile on her mouth. But it disappeared as soon as they were gone.

She looked at Gibbs. "Two days away from me and all this progress," she said morosely. "Like I needed…like I do not know this is my fault."

"Ziver," he warned.

"I need time," she said flatly. "I need…you should go."

He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. "Doc wants you to talk to someone."

"Not to you," she snapped.

 _Fair enough._ "A professional, Ziver."

"How did it get like this?" she burst. Her voice was thin, her face colored with anger and shame. "How did I make her so afraid?"

 _Thought you weren't talking to me_ , he almost said. "You didn't, Ziver. All this—"

 _All this._

"—came from way before you, or me, or DiNozzo. Before Liana."

She side-eyed him. "What Abby gave you."

"Should be enough to keep you from beating yourself up."

"Bring it to me."

"You still throwing me out?"

"I am tired." A wry look, a twist of her wrist. "Thirteen hours of sleep and still—"

"Not real sleep."

She gave a half-smile. Quiet. Some soft footfalls in the hallway, then nothing. She looked at him with enormous, sad eyes. "Sometimes I do not like who I have become."

A burn started in his gut and worked up his esophagus into the back of his mouth. Yeah, she was different. But she, DiNozzo, hell, even the kid—

they'd become his home.

Gibbs got up, kissed her cheek, let their foreheads touch.

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

"I do," he whispered.

She nodded, eyes wet. "I would like to speak to someone."

He smiled. "Not me."

" _Not_ you. I will ask for a referral."

"Want anything from home?"

"To go there."

"You will."

She fell back against the pillows. Exhaustion dulled her eyes. "Come back. Bring dinner."

He snorted. "What do you want, Princess?"

Too soon. She frowned. "She tried so hard."

Nope, he wasn't listening to that again. "So did you. What do you want to eat?"

"Pasta."

Carbs, of course. "Done."

"The appointment. Tell Tony—"

"Yeah, yeah."

Ziva yawned, waved him out. "Leave me alone. Goodbye."

She was out in seconds. He smirked, kissed her head again, closed the curtains. Outside was cold and bright. A few leaves still clung to the trees.

He'd have to rake again.

A little hard labor would feel good. He shrugged into his heavy work coat and scrawled _do not disturb_ on the whiteboard outside the room.

. . . .

The smell of leaf-rot. The last gold in the sky. car cruised by slowly, pulled over two houses down to drop off three boys in lacrosse gear. He watched them go inside and picked up the rake again. Gibbs shook out another contractor bag. He could finish before it was fully dark.

DiNozzo came out in his slippers and without a coat. He had a mug in each hand and made his way across the grass to give one to Gibbs. "Hot cider," he said, knowing coffee was the expectation. "Lia made it. Thought you looked cold."

He took it. "She's a good kid, DiNozzo."

The mugs went on the edge of the steps. Tony went to the garage to set down his mug and fetch another rake. "Woulda come out sooner but I was following up on all the referrals we got today."

"GI?"

"GI, ENT, pulmonologist, PT, OT, and a speech-language pathologist."

"Lotta docs, DiNozzo."

"Dr. Kent spent more than an hour with us. He said Liana's developmental age is way lower than her _actual_ age—that most adopted kids have some dysmaturity, but hers are severe because of trauma and her autism. She might be seven years old, but developmentally, emotionally, socially she's about _four_. That's how old she was when…it's like time stopped for her."

He stopped talking and raked, shoulders bunched under his sweatshirt. Raked and raked at a furious pace, then loaded armloads of leaves into the bag until he was panting.

Gibbs drank his cider and waited for Tony to tire out. Ten minutes ticked by, then five more, and he stopped and leaned on the rake so hard the tines bowed.

"Why you taking this so personally?"

Tony swallowed, caught his breath. "Why didn't I see it?"

Everything shifted. A light bulb flickered in Gibbs' dull old brain. "You're not your father, DiNozzo."

"How would you know?"

Gibbs held steady. DiNozzo needed to blow off steam.

"How the hell would you _know,_ Father of the Year? You weren't exactly _there_ when he locked me in a hotel room with Pay-Per-View and the room service menu while he spent two days bed-hopping with his colleagues' escorts. Or when he was dumping me at my third boarding school in six months. I was eleven, for the record."

t was fully dark and cold. Their breath made pale, icy clouds. "DiNozzo," Gibbs started lowly. "You're not him and you gotta stop the guilt. It's not helping your kid."

He nodded, looking around. "I asked for a transfer."

"To?"

"Intel."

"And?"

He shrugged. "Got offered a promotion instead." He trailed off again, there and not. "I gotta get out of the field."

Gibbs knew about that. "Salary bump."

"Yeah."

He'd need it. "So take it."

"I did."

"When you start?"

"When I get back. McGee cleaned out my desk. He's moving to Computer Crimes. I think the team is dissolving, Boss."

"Not my team anymore, DiNozzo."

"Yeah we are."

"You're my family."

They were both quiet, watching the night street from the middle of the yard, rakes in hand. The bag sagged at Tony's feet.

"Thanks," he said.

"Yep."

They packed up without another word. Left the bag and rakes in the garage, closed the door. The picnic table was finished.

Tony ran a hand over it, opened the door to the house. "I gotta check on Li."

Gibbs' heart tightened. "Be in in a bit."

Tony nodded and closed the door. Gibbs left the garage, passed the trash bins, followed the green lawn as it sloped around back. It was darker back there, away from the street lights. Maybe he'd run a concrete path down to the backyard, pour a cement pad for the table. A gazebo, painted white, for shade. Some hanging baskets of flowers.

 _They were his home._

He went back around, through the garage, and into the house. Liana was in the kitchen in pajamas, hair wet. She twirled a straw in a glass of chocolate milk. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoed. The garage door closed with a _thump_. "You gonna drink that?"

She shrugged. "Why did you go to the backyard?"

"Thinking."

"Oh."

He put a pot of water on to boil. "Your mom wants pasta."

"You're going to see her?"

"Yep."

"Can I go?"

 _Why not?_ "Sure. Go get dressed."

She scampered off, calling, _Abba!_

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

Tony poked his head out of the bedroom. "You're taking her?"

"Yeah. Take a load off, DiNozzo."

He slumped, relief washing over him like a rogue wave. "Thanks, Boss."

"I'm not your boss."

"Thanks, _old man._ "

That worked. Liana bunny-hopped in front of him, dressed again in soft pants and a long sweater. "What kind of pasta does Ema want?"

"You tell me."

"She likes mushrooms because they're good protein. And onions and garlic. And cheese." She gathered ingredients. He pulled a wide sauté pan from the low cabinet and put it on a flame. "Slice those mushrooms thin." He diced onion, opened a tin of tomatoes. Liana made serious work of her button mushrooms, tongue trapped in the corner of her mouth. A comfortable quiet fell between them.

Gibbs watched her pour rotini in the boiling water and set a timer. She was careful, precise.

Good company.

"Have time to draw today?"

"A little. I did a line drawing of a Tlingit raven. I want to fill it in with pens instead of pastel or pencil, but I don't have any." Her gaze flitted to his face and away.

"Any art stores open late?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe we can stop tomorrow."

She blew the foam from the pasta pot and stirred it with a wooden spoon. "That's ok."

The timer beeped. He drained the water, mixed the sauce and noodles, and poured it all in a plastic container. "Let's go."

Abby greeted them outside Ziva's room. "Hey! Hi! Lia! Gibbs!" She swept Liana off her feet. "How lucky am I to see you?"

The kid blushed. "You haven't come over in a long time."

"Bummer, huh?" Abby agreed. "Want to go on an adventure with me?"

Liana stammered. "I came to see Ema."

"So go see her and then we'll go on our special mission."

She looked at Gibbs. He nodded. _Go on._

Liana dashed into the room. He watched her kiss her mother's cheek. She wanted further permission, and must have gotten it. "Ok," she said upon return. "Ema said I can go. Where are we going?"

"Secret," Abby promised.

"You don't have a car seat," she worried, suddenly hesitant.

"We're walking. C'mon."

Liana took her hand. "Will we be gone long? I don't want Saba to leave without—"

"I won't," he vowed.

"Ok," she said quickly and hopped a little. She wasn't all that nervous, he realized. Too soon for the meds to work. Probably just wanted something new to think about.

Maybe he'd sketch some plans for that gazebo.

The elevator swept them down to street level. Gibbs found Ziva listless on the mattress. Abby had brushed her hair and put on her wrist splints. He held up the Tupperware. "Brought dinner."

She gave a thin smile but made no motion to take it. "Thanks."

He put it on the bedside table. "What's up?"

"I do not want to wait to have the surgery. I had another small seizure this afternoon and I just…the new medication... I am tired of being _tired._ "

He sat. "You talk to doc?"

"She thought I was rushing the decision. Why should I…why should I take so long? To spend more time here? To miss more of Liana's growing up?"

"Then let's do it."

That same relief—the one he'd seen on Tony's face—he saw on hers, too. She took her hand with both of hers. They were thin and cold. If the damned hospital made her sick-

"Thank you."

He squeezed, tried to warm her fingers. "Don't thank me, Ziver."

She drifted. Damn drugs _were_ making her drowsy; this wasn't just the usual postictal fatigue. He'd talk to Monroe, maybe get her on something else. Or nothing. Maybe just the Xanax. They'd work on keeping the house quieter.

She wouldn't mind if he sketched plans for a gazebo.

He bet Liana would want to help.

It was her house, too.

Her home.

 _And_ his.

"Saba?" She was back, a small paper package clutched in both hands. "Guess what I got?"

"A pony."

She laughed, glancing once at her sleeping mother. "No, pens! Abby knew which ones I needed! I didn't ask, either, she just picked them out. I didn't know Glick's was open this late, either. It's almost _eight_. My bedtime is eight-thirty."

"We'll go soon." He didn't get up, though. "Your mom wants to have surgery sooner than spring. You ok with that?"

Liana nodded. "I know it will be scary but I want her to feel better. Abby told me she feels really bad. She showed me pictures of what seizures do, like brain scans and stuff. On her phone, I mean. She said it's really hard to get better after. She said Dr. Monroe will put a magnet and some wires in her neck to interrupt the electrical activity that—" He must've been smiling, beause she stopped, shy. "You already know this, don't you?"

He smiled. "We started talking about VNS a few years ago. Wanted to run the gamut on meds first."

"Oh. Before me?"

"Yep. All of this started before you, kid."

She blinked, nodded. "Before me." Her golden eyes fell on Ziva's sleeping face. "It's not all my fault?"

It's not, Li."

"Dr. Kent told Abba today that my brain isn't normal and that's why I'm so weird. And autistic. He said that it was like that before I was even _born_." She looked at him, away, back at him. "I asked if that was why Lyuda didn't like me and he said she had her own problems that were too hard to overcome. We talked about drugs and how they changed _her_ brain forever and that's probably why she was…I don't want to talk about her but I can't help it."

"You're allowed to talk about her whenever you want."

"That's what Abba said."

"He's right. Don't tell him, though. Don't want him gettin' a big head."

She giggled. "He's not like that."

"Known 'im a whole lot longer than you. Trust me on this one."

She smiled. She was beautiful. DiNozzo was right on that, too.

"I trust you, Saba."

Ziva stirred. Liana jumped. "Ema?" But Ziva was out again. "Oh."

"Let's let Mom rest. You need to get to bed, too."

She rose on tiptoe and kissed her mother's cheek. " _Laila tov_ , Ema. I love you."

Gibbs kissed Ziva's brow. She stirred, gave a sigh, and slept again. _Damn drugs._ _Damn brain damage._ He held out his hand. Liana clung to it, trotted beside him all the way to the car, the package of pens wrinkled in her birdy hand.

He navigated back through the night, back to their street, their half-raked yard, their home. _Their_.

He glanced at Liana, asleep in the back seat. She still clutched the bag from Glick's. Then he picked her up, still out, and carried her into the house, into her room, tucked her beneath the blankets still in her clothes. Ziva would have something to say about that.

 _We do not get in bed in our street clothes, Abba. You could have woken her to put on pajamas. Now strip the sheets and put them in the washer._

Liana looked like her mother. Especially as she slept, face turned toward him, lashes fanned, mouth slightly pursed. He put the pens on her desk, turned off the lamp. She sighed in her sleep like her mother, too.

Gibbs paced the hall. In the master, DiNozzo snored and hugged his wife's pillow. In the kitchen, the pans were still on the stove. Newspaper on the dining table. Shoes littering the entry.

Ziva would have none of it. He tidied, washed, rinsed, ran the dishwasher. Stacked shoes on the rack. He folded the towel and hung it up. He tossed the paper in the recycling bin.

 _You live here,_ she would scold. _Clean up after yourself._

 _You live here._

"Yeah, Ziver," he muttered. "I live here."

He sat on the sofa in the dark. The cushions were soft. Softer than his couch, in his house. His empty house.

Gibbs took of his boots, stretched out, rubbed his eyes.

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

 _You live here._

He yawned. Pulled down the afghan.

 _Laila tov, Abba._

 _Shout if you need me, Ziver._

 _I will not._

 _Want anything from home?_

 _Her long gaze, her hand tight around his. To go there._

"Tomorrow, Ziver," he whispered, and closed his eyes against the dark.

. . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Been gone a long time, friends, but not on purpose. I was touched by all the PMs and reviews-thank you so, so kindly. xo**

 **Thanks: usual suspects, girleffect for the bonus read.**

...

Gibbs pulled in the drive and cut the engine. Lamplight spilled onto the wet lawn. They'd raked it clean of leaves, he and DiNozzo.

He got out of the car, plodded up to the front door, put the key in the lock.

 _Saba's home_ , he heard Liana call out.

 _Saba's. Home._

 _He was home_.

She was waiting for him in the entryway. Pajamas with stars this time. "Hi. How is Ema?"

 _A wreck_. "Hangin' in. You?"

"Abby told me they reduced some of her medicines to prepare for surgery. Did she have a lot of seizures today?"

"Couple." _In a row._ He'd lost count around fifteen. Hours ago.

Right after she'd Skyped goddamned Eli to cancel Thanksgiving.

"Abba told me she was going to cancel Thanksgiving with Papa from Israel."

Gibbs found a mug in the drainboard and made a pot of coffee. He'd get a wee-hours phone call. "Yeah, not a great time for him to visit."

She tiptoed to his side and watched the pot fill. "Was he bad to her?"

"Where's your dad, kid?"

"I asked him and he won't answer me."

"What makes you think I will?"

"Because you tell me the truth when no one else does."

Hot coffee burned his mouth and throat. "Just like your story is yours to tell, Li—"

"People don't just get adopted because they feel like it, Saba."

Gibbs set his mug down and looked at her. She stared back, challenging him. "Eli made choices. Not choices I would have made. People were put in dangerous positions—people like your mom. She also made a lot of sacrifices and I respect her for that."

"She sacrificed for you?"

"For me, for your dad, for Eli. For Israel, for the US. For a whole lot of people."

She blinked. "Is that how she got hurt?"

 _Which time?_ "Yep."

"Why didn't Papa want to take care of her?"

"Dunno."

"I'm going to ask him." She blinked again. "I'm glad she came to you instead. _And_ Abba. I'm glad he came to you, too. And I'm glad Papa isn't coming. I don't want him here if he's a bad guy."

He couldn't let her hate him. "I think he's trying to do better."

Liana shrugged, shook her head. "He can't."

"Depends."

She looked bored with him. "If Lyuda came here and asked for forgiveness, I would tell her no. And to get lost."

That was DiNozzo talking. "Your dad tell you to say that?"

She looked down. "I hate her."

Family was hard. Hell, _life was_ hard. "That's all right, Li."

"I feel bad. Dr. Mennit says I feel _guilty_."

He got down on her level, knees creaking. "Whatever you feel is fine. Own it."

She nodded, wide-eyed but blank. "Ok."

DiNozzo appeared, rumpled, and half-sleeping. "Lia, I put you in bed an hour ago."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm _not_."

Gibbs gave him a glare. _DiNozzo._

Tony raised his hands and let them fall. " _I'm_ tired, Lee-lee. Why aren't you?"

"You can go to bed. I won't get in trouble or wake you up." she said gently. A pause, then: "Sorry."

DiNozzo looked whipped. "Go," Gibbs said gently. "Rack. I got 'er."

Liana beamed at him. DiNozzo kissed her cheek and stumbled back into the bedroom. Gibbs turned a stern eye on her. "But you're going soon. Got me?"

"Got you," she said seriously, but then whispered: "Can we work on our project?"

He poured a fresh cup and together they went to the garage. It was colder there. Liana stepped into her snowboots, left on the rack from last year. She toyed with one of their finished blocks; a drawing of a striped chief's blanket.

Gibbs opened a can of gel medium and stirred. "Draw anything lately?"

She didn't look up. "No."

"Then pick one of the old ones to lay down."

She looked at him askance. "They don't go with the rest. I wanted to do a theme of all First Peoples ceremonial dress. A _tableau_."

He handed her the brush and pre-cut woodblock. "What about the rest of those?"

She looked at the folder, fat with the drawings she hated. "Throw them away."

"Nope."

"I don't want them."

He kicked the side of the old file cabinet posted at the end of the workbench. Mostly it was full of old car manuals and fix-it books. "Stick 'em in there."

Liana opened the dusty bottom drawer and sneezed. "You should clean out here. There is sawdust on everything."

Gibbs smirked. _You live here,_ her mother would say. _Clean up after yourself_.

She dropped the folder in the drawer and slammed it shut. "I don't know why I can't just get rid of them."

"I told you," he replied. "Can't throw away your past."

"You can't either," she retorted. He sniffed. Wasn't like her to be so confrontational.

"Nope."

"You never talk about it, though."

"'Bout what?"

"The family you had before. My dad said they died. Your daughter was just a little older than me."

"Yep."

"Does having me around remind you of her?"

"Maybe."

"Is that hard?"

He looked at her, standing in the cold garage in her star pajamas and old boots. "Put that gel medium on, kid."

She lifted the brush, winced, and made a few strokes. Coughed, put it back. "This stuff stinks. I don't like it."

"Shoulda said that before we did four of 'em, kid." He finished, laid the drawing face-down, and handed her a plastic scraper to work out the air bubbles.

"I haven't thought about hurting myself in a long time."

Gibbs rocked back on his heels. "Good. That's good, Lee-lee."

"I want to tell Ema."

"She'll be proud. Already is."

"Are you?"

"Proud of you? Sure."

"Are you proud of Ema?"

"Yep."

Liana put the scraper down. She'd done good work. Now to let the medium set. "I'm proud of our family, too," she sighed. "I'm tired now. I'm going to bed."

"Need tucking?"

A series of twitches moved across her little face. "Um, no." She smiled. "Goodnight."

"Night, Li."

Gibbs tidied up, listened to Liana make her way through the living room and down the hall. Tony's voice rumbled through the wall.

 _Goddamn they were thin._

Maybe he'd throw up a little insulation. If noise was getting through, so was cold.

He went in, took off his boots, rinsed his coffee mug and put it in the dishwasher. Added soap. Started the cycle.

 _You live here. Clean up after yourself_.

He lay on the couch. Pulled down the afghan. His phone, still on his belt, rang.

"Yeah."

"Abba."

"What, Ziver?"

"Well, _Grumpy_ , I am calling to remind you that pre-op testing begins at 0500."

"I didn't forget."

There was a short pause. "I did."

"Ziver—"

"I need this to work."

"I know."

"You cannot, though."

His worst pain had never compared to hers. "Need me to come back?"

Another pause. "No. But please come in the morning."

"Tomorrow."

She sighed. "Tomorrow. How is Lia?"

"She's…she's good, Ziver. She's good."

"I have missed so much." Her voice was thick, tearful. "I should be there—"

"And you will. Tomorrow."

 _Tomorrow_.

. . . .

The sun rose and cast weak, yellow shafts of light on the benches outside the surgical wing. The baristas at the coffee cart served lattes in fleece jackets. The oncoming cold front pushed warm wind ahead of it.

"Gibbs."

Eli David. Gibbs didn't turn around. "Thought Ziva told you Thanksgiving was canceled."

"She did, but I had to—"

"No ya didn't."

Eli sighed and sagged. "When did surgery begin?"

"Hour ago."

"And she is doing well?"

"Woulda said if she wasn't."

David nodded, slumped. He looked like a fat, weary old man. "Tony is waiting, I pre—"

"He's with Liana."

"May I join you?"

Gibbs took a deep draught of coffee. _Do not kill him,_ Ziva had asked. "Gonna be another hour at least." He headed back through the doors, into the elevator, up six floors to the surgery waiting area.

ZNN droned on the television. Syria, ISIS. He took a seat. "You would have sent her."

David looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

Gibbs motioned to the TV with his cup. "Aleppo."

They watched fires burn in Bustan al-Qasr. "I have not thought of…not in years." He cleared his throat, folded his sport coat around his middle. "I came to show her the respect she deserves."

He sat back heavily, irritated. "Bullshit, David."

"I lived a long time not knowing the impact of my actions."

"So you're cruel _and_ stupid."

"Gibbs, please."

Gibbs opened his wallet and unfolded a piece of Mossad letterhead. Tattered, creased, re-creased. It opened like cotton in his hand. "You remember this?"

Eli glanced at it, then up at Gibbs' face. "I have made many, many mistakes, but that was not one of them."

"Best goddamned thing you ever did."

David grunted an affirmation. "She has been unwell?"

Gibbs gave him a slow look. "Why the hell do you think we're sitting here?"

He sat back, folded his hands. "It was difficult, the last time we spoke. She kept having those…"

" _Seizures_."

"She must have had five in thirty minutes."

Gibbs shrugged. "Had to taper the drugs before surgery."

"That much?"

"Had to get a baseline."

" _That_ is her baseline?"

 _Goddamn it, Eli._ "Yeah."

"And this is supposed to help."

He said nothing. Eli fell silent. ZNN droned on. For-profit prisons. A mass shooting in Washington State. Gibbs wanted to close his eyes

"This was supposed to be my opportunity to meet Liana. Do you think—"

"Nope."

Eli sighed. Another silence stretched between them until he said, "I never thanked you."

Gibbs kept his eyes on the TV. "Shut up, Eli."

"I am grateful. Though it pains me tremendously to see the look in Ziva's eye when your name arises in conversation."

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

A nurse poked her head out. "Gibbs?"

He got up, cold coffee sloshing in the cup. "Yeah."

Eli got up, too. The nurse frowned. "I'm sorry, this is family only."

His shifted, eyes down. "Of course."

Gibbs followed her back to another, smaller waiting area and took an uncomfortable seat. Dr. Monroe came in a minute later. Her scrubs were clean. "She did great."

 _Damn right she did._ "Timeline?"

"TBD. We'll get her up and moving and see if we can send her home this evening. If not, first thing tomorrow. Her vitals are strong. We're moving her to a room now. You can head up when you're ready."

He put out a hand to shake. "Thanks."

She smiled. "My pleasure. See you on rounds later."

They shook. He made his way back to the larger waiting room, but Eli was gone.

Not a surprise.

Gibbs went up to the neuro floor. Ziva's name was already on the board. And Eli David lingered at the nurses' desk, leaning, ankles crossed. He was smiling, gesturing with one hand. The woman at the desk was smiling, too, and handed him a slip of paper.

Eli waved it at him. Gibbs obliged. "SitRep."

"I was able to get her a private room and her own staff," Eli said quietly. "I thought she might prefer some privacy while—"

Gibbs pinned him with a glare. "She told you not to come."

Eli stammered. Red crept up his neck. "I wanted to ensure she has adequate accommodations—"

"You have no right."

He held his hands out. "I wanted to be sure—"

"Then you should've been here five years ago and every day after that."

"I am trying to make amends, Gibbs. Ziva did not really mean I was not—"

Gibbs stared, hands curling. "Yeah, she did. Get out."

Eli nodded, eyes down. Did he share his daughter's deference? "Fine. But will you keep my updated as she recovers? I'd love to visit—"

"Talk to her, not me. When she's ready. _If_ she's ready."

He nodded again, turned, and left. Gibbs exhaled.

 _Insufferable old bastard._

 _Hell, maybe he was, too._

"Gibbs?"

Anya, Ziva's favorite nurse. His, too. "Yeah."

"She's up."

"Cancel the separate room. She's fine in Gen. Pop."

"Already paid for."

The insufferable old bastard had put it on his credit card.

A narrow, grey hall. A small room. Ziva awake on the bed, incisions covered with thin adhesive bandages. They were smaller than he'd thought.

"It went well," she told him. Her voice was hoarse. Would be for a few days.

"Yeah."

"Your face."

The chair was comfortable _._ Guess that's what paying out-of-pocket got ya _._ "Your dad was here."

She blinked, winced. "Why did he come?"

"To see you."

"Tell him to leave."

"Done."

She blinked. Her pupils were huge. Anesthesia. "Good. Water?"

Cup and straw. Cold water from the tap. The window overlooked the parking garage. The clouds were rolling in fast.

Ziva took small sips, pausing to breathe between. "My whole arm is tingly."

"Nerve block from when they made the pocket."

She drew down the collar of her gown and touched the device over the bandage. It was implanted below her collarbone. Already she was bruising. "I can feel the wire in my neck."

"It's not doing anything yet."

She gave him a look. "Where is Liana?"

"With Tony."

"You told her I am out?"

He hadn't. Gibbs picked up his phone and texted. _Op done. Neuro floor. Private room. See Anya._

Tony texted back right away. _Allergist had a cancelation. See you at home._

A little peak in his heart rate.

 _But she ain't his kid._

 _Her parents would figure it out._

 _Her parents._

 _Her abba._

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

Ziva was still on PulseOx, though her numbers were strong. They'd check lung capacity once she was up.

Did Liana have asthma?

Gibbs couldn't remember what DiNozzo said about the pulmonology appointment.

Or the swallow study.

It was hell getting old.

Ziva sighed and slept. How many hours passed? One? Four? Six? Shadows moved on the walls. Gibbs dozed, read the newspaper Anya brought him, and dozed again. The rain arrived, pattering softly at first, then harder.

There were footfalls in the narrow hall, then soft voices, and then Tony saying, "Boss."

He didn't pick his head up. "I'm not your boss."

"Saba? We brought you dinner."

 _Dinner._ Gibbs sat up. A fast food sack was on the tiny table. His stomach growled. "Thanks."

Ziva clucked. "You could not bring something healthier?"

Gibbs took a big bite. Cheeseburger, extra pickles. Fries. Soda. From his favorite place. "Thanks, DiNozzo."

"It was my idea." Liana sat across the table and folded her hands. "We already ate. I told Abba what you liked."

"Thanks," he said, mouth full. He took another big bite. It was a damn good burger. But wait—"You _ate_?" he asked.

Liana nodded. She wore a sweater the color of leaves and rolled up the sleeve to reveal two neat lines of pinpricks. "I got allergy tests."

 _Torture_. "You got allergies?"

"Milk, soy, wheat, eggs, dust, and mold."

Gibbs looked at Tony. They'd been damn near killing her. "So whadja eat?"

"Cucumbers, some chicken, and a glass of juice like Ema gets sometimes."

Grape. Orange. Strawberry-banana. They made the meds go down a little easier. He took another bite of his greasy, delicious burger. "You got asthma?"

"Yeah."

"You pass the swallow study?"

"Yeah."

"What else?"

"Um, Dr. Kiernan gave me medicine for my reflux."

Gibbs chewed a fry and studied her: her hair was pulled back with a ribbon, her sweater buttoned, her soft brown boots zipped neatly to mid-calf. Her cheeks were pink, eyes clear. "Doing ok?"

"Yeah."

"Tests hurt?"

"Not anymore."

Gibbs grunted. The food was gone. He wanted a coffee. "You gonna be ok, kid?"

"I think so."

"Lia." Ziva beckoned from the bed. "Come, _buba_."

Liana grinned and scampered across the room to crawl up next to her mother. "Gentle," he warned, but it wasn't necessary. Never was.

"Boss, campfire?" Tony nodded toward the door.

They went out and closed it behind them. Tony was stiff, angry. "Eli's around."

"Showed up 'bout an hour in to surgery."

"Bastard."

Popular sentiment. "I threw his ass out."

Tony straightened, crossed his arms. "If he tries to get to my family-"

Gibbs made him look him in the eye. "Got your six, DiNozzo."

He rocked back on his heels, nodding. "Copy." A silence. They studied each other. One father. Another. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to take Li home. I know she's beat."

"You all right?"

He smirked. "Getting this stuff figured out. Ok, so it's a year late. I can't beat myself up forever."

"She looks good."

"Sat through those scratch tests like a champ. Those froo-froo gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, taste-free bakeries charge a mortgage payment for a birthday cake."

He'd already checked it out. "You'll be glad to pay it."

Tony smiled at his shoes. "You coming home tonight?"

 _Home_. "Depends."

"Maybe you shouldn't leave her alone. If Eli—"

"I'll deal with it."

DiNozzo nodded and poked his head in the room. "Lee-lee? Two minutes, ok?"

"Ok," she said. She was curled up at her mother's side, paging through the post-op instructions.

"I hope this works," he said to Gibbs. "I feel like I…never mind." He cast a guilty look at him, then at Ziva.

"You been keepin' everyone's head above water."

He shrugged. "Guess now I know how you felt all these years."

"Go home. Watch a movie with your kid."

"She already picked _Jurassic Park_."

"We'll be home tomorrow."

 _Home_.

Tony went to the bedside and kissed his wife. He whispered something to her. She gave a wry look before kissing Liana goodbye. "I will be home by noon tomorrow."

"Says who?" Gibbs asked.

"Me."

He wasn't gonna argue. Sleeping in the hospital sucked.

"Take me for a walk," she demanded the minute Tony and Liana were gone. She tried to push up, but stopped, wincing. Stitches pulled. "And get my clothes. Why are these rooms always cold?"

Gibbs got out her sweats and helped her into them. Her left hand was half-drawn and useless. "How you gonna push with that, David?"

She scowled at him and pressed the button to open the door. "I will figure it out. I always do."

They went down the skinny hallway to the main floor, where Anya charted at a stand-up computer station against the wall and rain fell in sheets down the wide windows. Ziva pulled a face. "What time is it?"

"1735."

"I am hungry."

Anya gave a nod. Ziva made her way slowly to the elevator, pushed the call button, and hung her head while a seizure passed. He gripped her good shoulder when it ended. "Ya ok?"

She sighed. "I had hoped that—"

So had he, secretly. "Doesn't work like that."

She wouldn't look at him.

Downstairs, she chose a small cheese plate with crackers and fruit and a sparkling water. Mostly she pushed it around. "I will go through the pantry and refrigerator when we get home."

The coffee was fresh but still terrible. "No, ya won't."

"And look for recipes that will accommodate all of Lia's allergies. Who knew she had so many?"

Not them. Not anyone. "She looked good."

A maternal smile on Ziva's face. "She is darling."

 _Were you, Ziver_?

 _Probably_.

A soft _ahem_ from behind them. The shuffle of loafers. "May I join you?"

Ziva's expression soured. She pushed her plate away, hardly touched. "I told you not to come here."

"I know. I could not—"

"Listen to me?" she finished for him. "Clearly. Why did you come?"

"I wanted to see you. I wanted to know you were…taken care of."

"Someone _far_ nobler than you does that."

He exhaled, palms up. "Ziva, I am sorry. I do not know how many times I can apologize for that."

"I do not expect an apology. I expect you to come to terms with your own hypocrisy."

Gibbs sipped his coffee, face blank. Wasn't the first time he'd been around for this. Wouldn't be the last, either. "Ziver."

She glanced at him, angry, but hesitant. "Sit down."

Eli sat and folded his hands. They were huge, Gibbs noted. Like Daisy canned hams. "How are you feeling?"

Ziva glared. "Fine. _Obviously_."

"Are you in any pain?"

"I am _fine_." She stopped and rubbed her twitching left eye.

The head bob. The reflexive swallow. Gibbs put his hand between her shoulder blades. "Hey."

Another. Then a third.

Eli pushed away from the table. "What triggers these—"

"Stress."

Ziva stirred, rubbed her eyes, looked at both of them. "I do not know what to say to you," she admitted. Her voice was soft. "I asked you not to come because I do not wish for _you_ to see _me_. I am going back to my room now."

Gibbs got up, dumped her plate and his coffee, and left Eli sitting at the cafeteria table. They said nothing in the elevator, nothing in the hallway, nothing as he helped her back into bed. He watched the numbers while Anya took her BP and temp.

"What's going on?" the nurse asked.

"Nothing," Ziva clipped. "I am fine."

"Your numbers say otherwise."

Gibbs sat, propped an ankle on his knee. "You need something, Ziver?"

"To go home. Are you opposed to my signing out early?"

"Three in a row."

She leaned back and turned her face away from him. "Why does he not listen to me?"

Anya shifted, confused. "I have a standing order for Xanax. I can have pharmacy pull one for you."

"I do not need to be medicated. I need to go home."

"Tomorrow, Ziver." He'd make good on it. Maybe he could get her to sleep 'til then.

Anya adjusted a pillow to cradle Ziva's tight left arm. "Yes or no on the Xanax?"

"Yes," Ziva said quietly.

Gibbs sniffed. _I heard that._

She blinked and looked down. _I know_.

"Ya ok?"

"Why does he not listen to me?"

"'Cause he's used to getting what he wants."

Her mouth turned down. She swiped a tear from beneath one eye. "I will not give it to him. Not this time."

A CNA delivered the pill. She took it with a sip of water and drew the blanket up. "You are staying?"

"Yep."

Another sleepy blink. "Good," she agreed, and looked around.

For him? For Eli? Gibbs might like to know.

She pushed the blanket down, pulled it up again, rolled her head to the other side.

"Ants in your pants?"

She scowled. "I am uncomfortable."

Surgery sucked. Epilepsy sucked. Goddamned Eli _sucked_.

Now Gibbs sounded like DiNozzo.

"Wanna see if they'll give you something?" She sniffled. _Dammit._ He slid closer, took her hand. "Hey, Ziver."

"I have a headache," she admitted through her tears.

"That ain't why you're crying."

She nodded yes. Shook no. "I did not want him to see me in the hospital."

Gibbs would kill the bastard. Slowly. Painfully. Publicly.

He never should have let her go to the cafeteria. "I'm sorry," he ground out.

"Do not apologize."

"Shouldn't'a—"

"A warning would have been nice, but I know him. He raised me." She wiped her eyes. "Unfortunately."

That familiar pinch in his spine.

 _Abba?_

 _Abba!_

"You turned out ok."

She side-eyed him. "You may have had something to do with that."

"Go to sleep."

She nodded. "Wake me first thing. I want to go home."

He smirked. "Copy, Ziver."

 _Home_.

"Why do you keep your house?" she blurted, semi-slurring. "You live with _us_."

He raised one hand, feeling old. Feeling sore. "I don't know, Ziver. Sometimes I wonder."

" _I_ wonder if you have bothered to clean up after yourself since I have been here. You are not known for your tidiness."

He smirked. "Copy, Ziver."

"I will kill you if I go home to a disaster."

"Copy."

"Tomorrow."

"Yep."

She heaved a deep, sleepy sigh. _Finally_. "Laila tov."

Gibbs hunkered down in the recliner. It wasn't bad. One night, and he could go back—

 _Home, Ziver._

"Night, sweetheart."

She switched off the overhead lights. "Night, Abba."

He slid down further, not sleeping, not willing to sleep. He'd watch.

Eli.

Couldn't trust that insufferable bastard.

 _Abba!_

He jerked up, hand going automatically to the holster he hadn't worn in years.

But Ziva slept.

And Gibbs settled back in the chair. Lights moved in the parking garage. Shift change. Anya was probably driving home to her teenage sons, maybe stopping to buy a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread.

Driving home.

 _Home._

 _You live with us_.

He snorted, not quite sure why he found it funny.

"Yeah, Ziver," he muttered, studying her sleeping face. She was peaceful. For how long? He'd never know. "Yeah, I live with you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome back!**

 **This story is a slow-moving train, hence the delays.**

 **I wish you all US-ers the happiest of Thanksgivings.**

 **I'm grateful to all readers, as always; both here and away.**

 **Disclaimer: still no**

 **Thanks: usual suspects.**

 **. . . .**

A _Welcome Home_ banner was strung between porch columns. Two new purple chrysanthemums framed the steps. An actual red carpet led from the top of the ramp to the front door. Gibbs smirked. Ziva chuckled, her head cocked slightly toward her incision, red and tender beneath the bandages and bruises.

"She ain't excited to see you or anything."

Ziva's smile grew. "I know."

Aside from that, words were few and far between. Gibbs opened the door. "C'mon."

He helped her out. She made her way slowly, independently up the ramp. Liana flung the door open and did one of her jerky, joyful dances. "Ema's home! Abba! _Abba! Ema's home_!"

 _Abba!_

Ziva drew Liana close, buried her face in the crook of her neck. That child smell; soap and skin, laundry. A little sweat.

Gibbs remembered.

"I missed you," Ziva murmured.

Liana shivered and hugged her tighter. "I missed you, too."

He left, went outside, grabbed the bags from the trunk. Ziva's clothes, her slippers, pharmacy bags. Nine days' worth of hospital-stay debris.

"Put everything by the laundry," Ziva told him upon return. "I will sort and wash later."

Liana was still on her lap. "I can help you."

Ziva nuzzled her. "Ok, love. Right now, though, I would love to lie down."

She'd been out of bed for discharge and travel. Grand total: forty minutes.

"Ok," Liana said happily. "Let's go get in the big bed and I can read to you. I got a new chapter book. Tim helped me pick it out."

Gibbs gave Ziva a look. _Need help?_

DiNozzo took her push handles. "I got it."

Nine days apart. They needed time.

And not with him. "Be in the garage. Shout if—"

"Copy."

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them. Gibbs went to the workbench, where Liana's woodblocks were still laid out. The backing needed sanding off. He dampened it first with a little water and went to work with a plastic paint scraper. Layers of wet paper peeled off in tiny snakes. He used his rough fingertips to clean the edges.

A bird's face appeared. A ceremonial mask. He brightened the reds and blues with a thin coat of mineral oil.

The kid did nice work.

Kelly might have done a project like that with her Brownie troop. Just once. Just enough to display on her dresser, or on the kitchen windowsill. She would have chosen a family photo, or a picture of the dog, or a pencil rubbing of a leaf. She was different from Liana. Bubblier. More reckless. Fewer secrets.

The house was quiet. Gibbs wiped down the cabinet fronts, the shelves, tops of paint cans and his drill press. Then he swept it all into a pile and dumped the pile into the trash.

 _You live here. Clean up after yourself._

He moved inside. Recycled the newspapers, lined up the remote controls, fluffed pillows, wiped counters. Nine days he sat in her hospital room. Twenty minutes he spent tidying.

His solitude didn't last long. Liana peeped around the bedroom doorframe. Her braid was still tight and her face was clear of sleep creases.

"Ema and Abba are sleeping," she reported. Her voice was soft. "I…I'm not tired."

It was cold, but the sun was out. Gibbs raised his chin toward the front door. "Let's walk."

Liana pulled on boots—new boots—and a coat. A _new_ coat. She'd grown.

"Can you show me your house?"

He put on his coat without looking at her. "Yeah. Why?"

"I've never seen it. I'd like to. Is that all right?"

"Guess so. C'mon."

They walked. Liana shuffled her feet in the fallen leaves. "I love when the weather changes. In Florida it just rained a lot in the winter. Then it would be hard to find a dry spot to sleep. Sometimes we slept under the play structure at a park near the beach. Once we slept in a shed on a golf course and we were afraid we would get caught, but it was raining so hard and—"

Gibbs grunted. They turned the last corner. He guided her up the sidewalk and through the front door.

"It's not _locked_?" she gaped. "Saba, that's not safe."

"You think someone's coming in on me, Liana?"

She went quiet. "Do you have guns?"

"Yep."

"Are they locked up?"

"Nope."

"That isn't safe, either."

"Like I said-who's coming in here?"

She puffed like a little chick. "Someone who might steal them! Abba keeps his gun in the safe when he's home. I'm not allowed to know the code."

"Your dad won't be carrying much longer."

Liana circled the first floor, hands in her coat pockets. Her footfalls were soft, her hair haloed with afternoon light. "I know. He got promoted. This place is bigger than our house. Where was your daughter's room?"

"I emptied it out a long time ago."

"You're the one who said we can't throw away the past."

He'd held on to Kelly's stuff for way too long. Shannon's, too. Hell, he still held on to their stuff. "It's upstairs."

She stepped out of her boots and padded up the staircase. He heard her move from room to room. "Oh, this is it," she said.

Kelly's room. The carpet still bore stains and wear from her shoes, her nail polish spills, the cookies she sneaked up the steps after school or before bedtime. He didn't need to go up there.

Liana came back down, stopping a few steps from the bottom. "This place is almost empty."

"I don't spend much time here."

"Then why do you keep it?"

"Can't let go, I guess."

"It would be nice if a family moved in."

A playmate? Did Liana have friends? Not that he knew. "Think I should sell it?"

Liana squinted at him. Did she need glasses? "Did you know foster kids under age five are supposed to be placed with foster families?"

"Nope."

She didn't acknowledge him. "I was four. Why was I placed in a group home?"

Gibbs didn't move. "I don't know, Li."

"I bet they thought I wouldn't notice." She swayed. He reached out, worried she'd fall down the last few steps. "I wish I came to Ema and Abba sooner."

"What would that change?"

She shrugged. "What if I don't get enough time with them?"

"It's not _how much_ but _how good._ Make it count."

Liana nodded. "Maybe we should go home."

Gibbs guided her to the front door, one hand on her back. He could feel the knobs of her spine through her coat. "C'mon. Help me make dinner."

She trotted along beside him, feet pattering on the fallen leaves. "I found a recipe for sweet potatoes with apples in the _Post_. Want to try it?"

"Sounds like something your mother would like."

"Yes," Lia agreed quickly. "We like root vegetables. It's our Eastern European heritage."

Gibbs guffawed and opened the front door. Inside, Tony was reading the paper. His hair was wet. The washing machine clicked and began the spin cycle.

"Where ya been?" he asked. "Woke up and you guys were long gone."

"We went to Saba's house," Liana replied. She hung her coat and climbed into her father's arms. "Have you been there? It's huge and no one lives there. Where's Ema?"

"Go wake her up."

Liana scampered off. Gibbs got yams out of the fridge and rinsed them under the tap.

"What was that about?"

He put them on a towel without looking at DiNozzo. "Wanted to see my house. I walked her down."

"Did you show her the basement?"

"Wanted to see Kelly's room."

No one ventured to the second floor. Not in all the years since—

"Boss—"

"I'm not your boss."

"Are you ok?" DiNozzo's voice was low. "You don't have to—"

"I'm fine, Anthony." He grabbed the steaks from the fridge, salt and pepper grinders from the spice cabinet. _Fleur de sel sea salt_. Ziva and her fancy shit.

Tony switched the laundry. "You can have more room here if you want it. I know that basement isn't big. And the garage is cold."

One onion, one clove of garlic. He got out a green apple for Liana. "You get her eyes checked?"

"Who? Lia? Yeah, she's fine. Hearing, too."

"She squints a lot."

"She thinks a lot. You want to grill those or pan fry them?"

Outside was still dry. "Grill."

Tony sliced the onion. "Thinking about an addition. I want to put in more storage and a sensory gym for Lia. Maybe we could go out over the garage and make like a mother-in-law apartment up there. _Father_ -in-law. Won't smell like sawdust and old bourbon but we can make it your space. _No DiNozzos Allowed._

"Ever think about getting a dog?"

"So I can have something else to worry about?"

"So your kid can have a friend."

DiNozzo washed his hands. "The school district won't take her back without a full-time aide."

He figured. "Other options?"

"Private special ed. on their dime."

 _Covering their asses._ "You talk to Ziver about it?"

"Not yet."

That was gonna be a tough pill to swallow. "Whaddya think?"

Tony threw the sliced onion in a skillet. It hissed and steamed. "I want to keep her home through the end of the school year, but I don't know that Ziva would go for that."

"Could you do something part-time?"

Liana came out, eyes wide. "Ema isn't getting up." She huffed. "She isn't even _trying_."

DiNozzo yanked the skillet off the heat. Gibbs dropped the meat in the sink. They went together, double time, into the dim bedroom.

"Ziver." The bed was a mess. "Hey."

DiNozzo flipped on the lamp. Ziva was still, eyes half-open, hands curled under her chin. Classic. Gibbs sighed. "Seizure, Li. She'll come around in a minute."

She nodded from the doorway, jaw yet. "It didn't look like normal. She didn't make that click—"

"Been a rough coupla weeks, huh?"

Lia nodded. Tony opened his arms and she ran into them. "Let's finish making dinner and then we can check back in. Want to make those yams?"

She nodded again, stoic, composed, but her arms were locked around her father's neck. "It would take too long to roast them in the oven. I can microwave them and then add the apples after."

He put her down. She took his hand. DiNozzo gave Gibbs a nod. _Stay put. She'll need you._

Gibbs lifted his chin, sat on the chaise under the window. _Don't screw up the steaks._

 _I found the recipe in the_ Post _,_ he heard Liana report. _I read the food section every week. And the Arts section, but you knew that already_.

He couldn't hear DiNozzo's response, but there was soft laughter and the microwave beeped. Chopping, slow and deliberate. Ziva's breath quickened. She shuddered.

He wouldn't drag her back to the hospital if they paid him. "Ziver?"

She moaned. One tight fist touched her brow. Gibbs retrieved a Zomig solu-tab from the bathroom. He brushed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "Hey, open."

She did. He placed the tab under her tongue and sat in the crook of her knees to rub her back. At four-and-a-half her shoulders released. One hand came away from her eyes. At five minutes she sighed. Not a cure, he knew, but an improvement.

"Liana," she started.

"She's fine."

She swallowed, winced. "With _this_?"

"Temporary, Ziver. You'll be up and around soon."

"I need this to work."

"I know."

Liana, peeking: "Um, are you going to eat with us?"

Ziva stilled, said nothing.

Gibbs looked at her, then at Lia. "Yep. Gimme a minute."

She scampered off. He sighed. "Ziver—"

"Go eat." He made it halfway across the room. "I love you," she said to his back.

It meant _I'm sorry_. He smirked. They'd get through this. All of it. "Me, too."

. . . .

"They will not take her back without a one-to-one aide." Ziva spit.

They were behind the glass at the OT gym, watching Liana's therapist guide her through a balance activity. Liana wobbled like a toddler. Ziva's breath caught and released when the assistant steadied her.

"I do not want her singled out."

Gibbs snorted. "Too late, Ziver."

"Maybe we should look into that alternative school."

"What can it hurt?"

She tried to shrug and touched the incision over the device. "I cannot wait until I can properly turn my head."

All the muscles on that side were tender. There were still tendrils of bruising down her neck and collarbone. "Takes time, Ziver."

"I have not waited long enough?"

Liana toppled off the bumpy cushion. "She needs to get outside."

"It is _December_."

"You never played in the snow?"

"In Israel?"

 _Touché._ "She's got gear."

"She has not spent enough of her life unsheltered?"

Direct hit. "Not the same as playing at the park for an hour, David."

She fixed him with a dark look. "Then take her yourself."

Liana fell again. Gibbs recognized the look of defeat on her face. "You wanna get in there?"

But she was already swinging through the doors. Liana tumbled toward her, tears in her eyes. _I'm so bad at this,_ he knew she was saying. _I want to go home_.

Ziva helped her up, dusted her pants, and squared her shoulders. _Look me in the eye,_ she was saying. _You must keep trying. We do not give up so easily._

"Mr. Gibbs?"

 _Mister._ "Yeah?"

Dr. Mennet. "Got a few minutes?"

"She's done in thirty."

"Not even that many."

He followed her to a small conference room on the other side of the gym. "How's it going?" she asked easily.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yep."

She folded her hands, crossed her legs. "Gibbs."

"Doc."

"Does this amuse you?"

He leaned in. Her perfume smelled flowery. Like an old lady's. "I am doing everything I can to hold my family together. For all you need to know, everything is _fine._ "

" _Your family_?" she echoed.

She set a goddamn trap. "Yeah."

"Has this brought you closer together?"

"What's _this_?"

"Liana clearly had a mental health crisis and very likely could have another. Ziva's health took a dive before surgery and she's still recovering. You and Tony have been keeping everyone afloat. You must be exhausted."

He was and wasn't. "That's what we do."

"You are not tired."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Liana mentioned that you had a daughter who passed away in her childhood. That's tragic, Gibbs. The loss of a child is devastating. Many people do not recover."

"I'm not _people._ "

"Liana said she is close to your daughter's age when she died. I can't imagine, Gibbs-"

"So don't," he warned.

"How has your relationship with Liana changed?"

"She's a good kid."

"You are able to give her an outlet. She feels safe talking to you about things that she feels are too delicate for her parents. And I appreciate that you get her outdoors and moving. She's quite a sedentary child."

"It's always her idea. And tell that to Ziver."

Mennet cocked her head. "That is not the first time you've used that nickname for Ziva."

"Nope."

"She holds a very special place in your heart."

 _Damn right_. "She's something else."

"You think of her like a daughter?"

 _Damn right_. "She got hurt and her asshole father dropped her like a bad habit. What choice did I have?"

"So you've always felt responsible for her? _To_ her?"

"Ziva gave up a lot. Someone owed her but no one stepped up."

"And Tony?"

"How many years and he's still so in love he can't see straight. Now with both of 'em."

"You know that feeling. Or _knew._ " She held up one hand. "You don't just get over a loss like that, Gibbs. You might have learned to live with it, but it did not just cease to be."

He bristled. "Don't tell me how to feel."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"But you can't give me straight talk."

"What do you think I _been_ givin' you, Doc?"

"Circumventing. Single words. You refuse to open up. What if I asked you to do it for Liana?"

"I'm here, ain't I?"

Mennet nodded. "What can I help with?"

Gibbs sighed. "Ziva's got the kid on a short leash. How do I get her to let up without pissing her off?"

She snorted. " _You're_ afraid of pissing Ziva off?"

"She's overprotective."

Doc laughed. " _You_ are calling _her_ overprotective?"

 _Took one to know one_. He sat back.

She leaned on her elbows. "I think you need to speak to that side of her. If you can keep _Ziva_ safe, then certainly you can keep Liana safe. Yes?"

Good. Done. He got up. "Thanks."

She raised her eyebrows. "So we're finished."

"Liana comes in with Ziva on Thursday for her session. See you then."

The drive home was quiet except for Liana's sniffling. The winter sun peeked through the bare trees, laid short, golden shafts on lawns and storefronts. 1500. Dark would be coming on soon.

"Hey," Lia said through her sniffles. They were at a stoplight not far from home.

 _Home_.

"That park has a ramp, Ema."

Gibbs pulled over and got out, pulled Ziva's chair out of the trunk. Liana was on his heels. Ziva lingered in the passenger seat. "C'mon."

"It is not even forty degrees."

He tweaked the sleeve of her coat. "That jacket cost three hundred bucks, David. It better keep you warm."

"And you have gloves and a hat," Lia reminded. "They're in the center console."

She got out begrudgingly. _I hate the cold_ , her glare told him.

 _Just for a minute_ , he glared back, and swept a meaningful gaze at Liana, who was pinkish and smiling, despite the tear-tracks that lingered on her cheeks.

"Just for a few minutes," she begged. "Please?"

"Fine," Ziva clipped, forcing a smile. "Go play. Show me your _vildeh chaya."_

Lia took off at a clumsy jog. Ziva pushed slowly, clearly cold and achy. "You will pay for this," she warned.

He pointed at Liana, scaling the climbing structure. "Worth it."

"That's a fast slide," she called from the bottom, and took off again, circling the whole structure, skirting the fireman pole for the monkey bars.

"Careful," Ziva reminded.

"Lay off," Gibbs chided.

She tucked her hands under her thighs. "Physically she is—"

"Never going to catch up if you don't let her go."

She fell silent. Their breath made clouds in the setting sun. "I speak with Dr. Mennet often about…my greatest fear is that she will end up like me, Abba."

He lowered his voice. "Is your life so bad, Ziver?"

"My life is wonderful," she retorted softly. "But I mourn my independence. Who would not?"

They watched Liana collect the few remaining buckeyes and line them up on a bench. She counted, rearranged, counted again. Clapped her hands. Hopped in place.

"She may never live on her own," Ziva said.

"DiNozzo mentioned that."

She sighed. "I want what is best for her, but it is hard not to feel like we have failed. Do we not raise our children to be independent? To make meaningful lives of their own?"

"So her life won't have meaning if she doesn't move out and get a job? Or go to college?"

"College is a non-negotiable. She can study from home."

Gibbs put his hands in his pockets. The sun sank. Cold air seeped through his coat. "She's smart. She'll make it."

"Perhaps." Ziva shrugged and rubbed her hands on the tops of her thighs. "My father called yesterday while you were out with Tony. He is in New York."

"For what?"

"Because he does not want to go back to Israel. He professes to miss me too much."

Gibbs snorted. "I'll bet he does."

"He is a lonely old man. Of his own design, to be clear, but without his work he has nothing to do."

"What did you say?"

"To get a hobby. To adopt a pet. I am not responsible for his happiness."

"Good."

Liana took another lap around the play structure and headed for the monkey bars again. She stopped to wave. Ziva waved back, smiling. "He also wired more money to my account."

"I'll bet he did."

"Tony and I have been talking. Do we move? Do we renovate? I want to create a space for Liana to grow into, like a mother-in-law suite or a backyard cottage. We have not yet spoken to an architect, but if she cannot live on her own I want to provide as much independence as I can. I put the money aside for that."

He smirked. "DiNozzo wants to build out the garage. For me."

"That was my idea. It would be private, of course. I know you like—"

"Solitude is overrated."

Ziva laughed aloud. "You are a terrible liar."

A small squeal was followed by a thud. They both jumped. Liana lay in the woodchips under the monkey bars.

"Lia?" Ziva called. Her voice shook. "You are ok. Get up, _motek_."

Liana didn't move.

"Li," Gibbs commanded. "C'mon. You're fine."

She sat up slowly. Mulch hung from her hair and scarf. A gasp was followed by a wheeze. Her face was red.

"Get her," Ziva ordered, but he was already across the play area, bending down to scoop her up.

"Anything hurt?"

She shook her head, panting. He carried her to Ziva's side, where she was given her inhaler and told to puff.

"I'm ok," she reported once her color returned. "I fell and it was like there was no _air_." Her eyes were wide, but in curiosity rather than fear. "How does that happen?"

Gibbs heart resumed its normal pace. "Got the wind knocked out of ya."

She put her inhaler back in Ziva's bag. "But how does that _happen_?"

"Ask McGee," he supplied. "Let's go. Sun's gone down."

She plodded alongside him to the car. Ziva transferred into the back seat. "I will sit with her."

"She's fine, Ziver."

She pushed her chair at him so he could put it in the trunk. "I will be the judge of that."

At home, Tony was pulling a casserole out of the oven. Gibbs hoped there was leftover steak in the fridge.

Liana went straight for her father. "I fell off the monkey bars and Saba said it _knocked the wind out_ of me. How does that happen?"

"Ask McGee."

"Can I have your phone to call him?"

He laughed. "He's coming this weekend to talk with Ema and me about some stuff. Why don't you wait until then?"

She nodded, frowning a little, and rubbed her arm. "Ok."

Ziva gave her a nudge. "Go wash your hands for dinner."

She nodded again and left. Gibbs got out plates and silverware. Ziva moved a salad bowl down the island. "What is that, Tony?"

"Shepherd's pie. Made it with the leftover steak."

 _Damn._ Ziva caught his eye and winked. He smirked. She was on to him. As usual. "Just say thank you," she whispered.

"Thanks, DiNozzo," he said dutifully.

Liana found her way to her seat and helped herself to a few cucumbers from the salad. "I know what Dr. Mennet says about me," she blurted.

Ziva sucked in a breath. _Easy,_ Gibbs urged silently. "And what does she say?"

She touched her fork to the potatoes and stalled. "That I'll always need help."

"That is possible." Ziva was choosing her words carefully. "But we do not know that for sure. However, if that _is_ the case, we will make sure you have what you need to thrive."

"Like Saba does for you."

Gibbs saw the wobble in her jaw. "Yes."

She shrugged. "Ok. Do you think I would be dead if I was still with Lyuda?" Ziva dropped her fork. Tony muttered _dammit_. Liana tucked herself small and apologized.

Ziva recovered quickly. "Do not be sorry. I do not like _what-ifs_. I think your mother did what she could to keep you safe, even if it was painful for both of you."

Liana nodded. "What happens if I need someone to take care of me and you're not around?"

" _If_ that happens, then we will make sure there is someone we trust, and that _you_ trust, who can help you."

"Is that why I can't go back to school?"

"It is one of the reasons, yes."

"Not because they hate me?"

 _Jesus,_ Gibbs swore silently. Was that how they made her feel? "No." He sounded more forceful than he meant to. "They don't hate you, but they can't give you what you need."

She exhaled, relieved. "Oh. Ok."

"We're going to look at a private school for you," DiNozzo said. "It might be a better fit."

"Tuition is expensive."

"Worth it," he said around a mouthful.

"Maybe I can work to help—"

" _No_!" they all chorused.

Liana jumped, but didn't seem scared. "You all talk the same sometimes." She set her fork down. "And I'm full. May I be excused? I'll come back to help clear the table."

"Sure," DiNozzo said. "And don't worry about it. We'll take care of it."

She put her plate in the sink. "I want a chore chart."

"Done," Ziva said quickly. "We will make it tomorrow. Think about what you can do."

Liana brushed a kiss across her mother's cheek. "Thanks, Ema." She wobbled down the hallway, clearly tired, rubbing her arm. "I'm going to draw some longhouses."

Gibbs pushed away from the table. "How long you think you need to do the renovation?" DiNozzo and Ziver exchanged looks. "Thinking I should sell my house."

"Boss—"

"I'm not your boss."

"Abba—"

 _Abba!_

"I do not want you to feel forced to live with us," Ziva said slowly. "I know you value your solitude."

"Not like I used to."

DiNozzo retrieved two beers from the fridge and passed him one. The first swallow was a blessing. "You haven't built a boat in years," he noted. There was a hint of accusation in his tone.

"Don't need to."

"So what are you working on in the garage?"

"Nothin'."

That earned him a side-eye from Ziva. "Why now?"

"You need an extra set of hands on deck. Will for a while."

The side-eye turned to a look of love. "Abba—"

"We're a family," he reminded. "This is what we do. You got phone numbers?"

"For?"

"An architect. A few of 'em. Let's get a few plans on the table before we start bidding it out."

Liana reappeared, pencil smudges on her hands. "Are you finished? I can help clean up."

"We're going to renovate the house," DiNozzo told her. "It's a long process, but we're going to make some permanent space for Saba and maybe a little extra room for us."

"Can we keep the pool?"

"Yes," Ziva promised. It was good for her. For both of 'em.

"Everything sounds so expensive."

"That is not for you to worry about," she said gently. "We will tell you when it is time to think about money."

Liana blinked. "Ok. So we can still have Hanukkah and Christmas, at least this year?"

Gibbs needed to see about a tree. "Every year, Li."

"Ok, because I have gifts. Saba has been helping me with them."

Light bulbs flickered above her parents heads. "Gotcha," DiNozzo sighed, and winked at Gibbs. _I'm onto you_. "That's sweet, Lee-lee. You don't—"

"But we are delighted that you did," Ziva interrupted. "Can you collect the plates, please, and put them in the sink? Saba will rinse and load the dishwasher."

Liana stacked the plates in the sink, tongue out as she focused, and then found the broom and swept the kitchen floor and entry hall. "You're selling your house, huh, Saba?"

He pulled out the top dishwasher rack to load the glasses. "Yep."

"I don't like to think of you being there alone. Like at night, when it's dark. I like knowing you're here."

Gibbs looked at her, clutching the broom and dustpan, the bow in her hair still crooked from her fall at the park. "I like being here, sweetheart."

"Even if I make you crazy?"

He slammed the dishwasher shut and got down so she would look him in the eye. "Listen to me, Liana."

She bit her bottom lip.

"Kid, you might be one of the best things that ever happened."

She went red and looked down.

"Look at me."

She tried, even though her gaze darted left and right. _Good enough_. "I love the hell out of you. Don't you forget it."

Lia giggled, still trying to look at him. Her hands came up over her mouth, then clamped together under her chin. "Me, too, Saba," she whispered.

Ziva grabbed her in a hug from behind. " _You too_ what?"

"Nothing," Lia giggled and wiggled away. "Can you help me when it's time for a bath?"

"Absolutely. Go choose your pajamas."

And she was gone again, bow flapping.

Ziva bumped him with her shoulder. Beer bottles clanked. DiNozzo was pulling out two more cold ones.

"I will be in the office, researching. You two make sure those bottles end up in the recycling bin."

 _You live here. Clean up after yourselves._

"Copy," he promised, and kissed her head. "Get to it."

Tony pushed a cold one into his hand. "You sure about this, Boss?"

Gibbs tossed the cap in the trash. "If you don't knock that off, DiNozzo—"

"Then stop calling me _DiNozzo_. My name is Tony." He held up his bottle. "Cheers."

"What are we toasting to?"

"Renovation."

"Renovation."

They clinked and drank.

"It's trash night," Ziva called from the office. "Do not forget to put the cans out."

Gibbs cinched the kitchen trash closed and pulled the recycling from under the sink. They'd finish their beers first.

"Think I can get a theater room?" Tony wondered.

"For forty grand."

"So maybe just a new TV."

"If you're lucky."

 _Lucky_.

"I am."

He knew. They all knew. Gibbs drained the bottle and put it in the bin. "Better go help your wife."

Tony, too. "She can make a list of phone numbers."

"Want that new TV?"

He nodded, thinking, studying the corners of the kitchen and living room. "Huh. Yeah."

Gibbs dragged the garbage cans to the edge of the drive and stood in the cold, looking. They could re-pitch the roof, raise the ceilings, add more windows in the back of the house. That would open up the front for an apartment over the garage. Eight hundred square feet, maybe a little more. Galley kitchen, one bedroom. Bump another stall in the garage so he could keep his work area and Ziva could get in and out of the car without getting cold or wet.

Let 'em chew on it a while before he'd talk to them.

Hell if he lived here—

 _You live here._

-then he wanted a say.

 _You live here._

Gibbs went back in the garage, lowered the door, and turned out the light. He'd check in on Lia. See if she had a drawing for him to set. See if he knew any of the names on the list Ziver was making.

Just _see_.

Just see how he lived there.

. . . .


	7. Epilogue

**Well, here it is, folks. We've reached the end. I don't know what this means for me from here on out, but this has been a journey and I've enjoyed with you. Thank you for letting me bring you along.**

 **xoxo**

. . . .

Summer. Maryland. Cut grass, the cooling barbeque grill, the boxes Gibbs had yet to unpack. Books, some old documents, his medals. Photographs. The sun a thin thread of light on the western horizon.

Maybe he'd put a few pictures up. He had plenty of wall space now that his apartment ran the whole length of the house. Second floor. View of the park. Lots of light, a kitchen, a coffeemaker, television already tuned to Spaghetti Westerns with the sound off.

He lifted a box onto the kitchen table. Ziva's stuff. DPoA, original parking placard, doctor visit summaries, EEG results. Some pictures from the early days post-accident, when she'd been skinny and pale, sometimes there, sometimes not. Gibbs tucked them in an envelope and stuck it in a drawer.

His cell buzzed. He'd turned off the ringer for the night.

Blocked number. He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Good evening."

David.

"What do you want, Eli?"

"I just wanted to say hello." He sounded nervous. "I skyped earlier with Ziva and Liana and Tony, but I did not get to speak to you. You are well?"

"Fine."

"They gave me a tour of the house. The renovation is beautiful."

"Thanks."

"Liana told me you have an apartment there now."

 _Trap_. "Yep."

"You like it?"

"Yep."

"I have started a savings account for Liana. For university studies. I believe she is on that path, correct?"

"No one needs your money, Eli."

David harrumphed. "I don't, either, so I'd rather it went to a good cause. Liana's education is paramount. I do not want her to worry about cost."

"Strings attached."

"The money cannot be withdrawn until she graduates from high school. Not even by me. I'm happy to share the account information, should you want to receive statements or make deposits."

No way in hell would Gibbs put money in an account with Eli's name on it. Even an old mattress and an unlocked door was be better. "Why'd you give me those pictures, David?"

"Pardon me?"

"Pictures. Of Ziva. You gave me a check and a stack of photographs after Ziva got hurt."

"I suppose I wanted you to know where she came from."

"You plan that all along?"

"From the time I got the phone call that she'd been injured and I was to fly out right away. And once I saw her…I knew I was not the one she needed. Perhaps I never was."

Could Gibbs imagine Ziva without Eli?

Was that who she'd become since her injury?

"That all you called to say?"

"And to thank you."

He stifled a groan. "For what?"

"You are the father I never could be. And I appreciate your allowing me to be in Ziva's life, in Liana's, in small ways."

"Wasn't my choice."

"But you could have taken measures to ensure she never saw or spoke to me."

"That's not my game, David, and you know it."

"When Ziva was under investigation for the death of Daniel Cryer—what did you tell Officer Ben-Gidon? You said exactly this: _she's off limits._ "

"You sent him to burn her."

"A mistake. One of many."

"How many?"

"More than I can count. And I regret each and every one. And I do not blame Ziva for not being generous with her forgiveness. "

"She doesn't owe you shit, David."

Quiet. Then, "I know. I should go. Have a pleasant evening, Gibbs."

Gibbs hung up, threw the cell on the counter, and went downstairs. Ziva was at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and her laptop. "Yes?" she asked blithely.

"Your father just called me."

She gave him a scowl. "For what?"

"Said he wanted to say hi."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "He needs a hobby. I should send him some needlepoint."

He smirked. "He still get to you?"

She sipped tea, one brow arched. "No more than a fly."

He let his gaze wander around the room and out the window. The yard was dark. The new grass slept under a smattering of fireflies. "Why'd you come here, Ziver?"

"The television is too loud. Tony and Lia are watching one of their cop shows and the noise giving me a headache."

"No, _here_. The US. Why'd you take the assignment?"

"You ask that like I had a choice." She closed her laptop. "I got orders. I followed them. You know that."

Of course he did. "It was different."

She shifted, touched the scar over her collarbone. He could see the device through her skin, tan from gardening in the sun. "I arrived here thinking it would be like any other assignment _._ But it was different. I was reporting to people who were as powerful as my father and did not hesitate to stand up to him. And my colleagues…they smiled and teased...even though I was so cold and distant. But you must understand that I learned early to shut everything out and complete the task at hand. There were no drinks after work. There were no movies or novels or diners or coffees. There were no friends." She looked away. Her lashes fluttered. "I worked and lived with my father for my entire life, to that point, and he only occasionally bid me goodnight. Do you know how strange it was to have coworkers who asked me how my weekend was or what activities I liked? I thought they were setting traps, looking for weaknesses to use against me later. And Abby _hugging_. Hugging! The first time she did it I thought she was going for my knife. I nearly put her in a headlock. I was taught to believe that being right meant survival, but here I was _wrong_ —wrong about you, about NCIS, about my coworkers, about this country. Unlearning everything was not easy."

"You've come a long way." High praise.

She knew. "Imagine if I hadn't."

 _Nope._ "Feeling ok?"

She smiled. "Seizure-free since my appointment."

Dr. Monroe had adjusted the frequency of her VNS after a week of too many breakthrough events. "Headache?"

"No."

The dishwasher clicked and turned on. He could still smell chicken and rice. "Dinner was good."

"I could make that meal with my eyes closed." She grew far away. "It was exciting, when I got my first apartment here, to cook dinner. I could make what I wanted rather than what my father wanted. I got a library card—my first ever—and checked out every cookbook in the collection. Indian, Thai, American, Japanese, Mexican, German—I tried them all. And other books, too. Novels. Poetry. I read Neruda for the first time. Toni Morrison. Shakespeare. Chaucer, though the language was too hard. Science fiction, history, science. I read everything I could get my hands on. I bought a television and watch programs and movies I'd heard about but never saw. I went to museums and to the theater. We Jews _love_ theater. Did you know that?"

"Nope."

"We do. But I'd never gone. I grew up in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world but I'd never gone to the theater, or a library, or to a concert hall unless Tali was performing. I had never seen modern art or _King Lear_ or _Fiddler on the Roof_. The only musical I'd ever seen was _The Sound of Music,_ and only because my father was out late one evening and it was on television. I watched it with Tali while I ironed his shirts. We turned the sound so low we could hardly hear it. I was afraid the neighbors would hear it and tell him."

She was a hydrant, wrenched open and gushing.

"Sometimes I read so late into the night that I did not sleep. I went for my run, showered, and went to work. I do not think you ever noticed. And I was happy to go to work, where I had friends who wanted to talk about film and science when you were not around."

And he'd been not-around enough. Juggling Jenny, then Vance, MTAC, HR. "What else, Ziver?"

She glanced away, diatribe interrupted. "Then it was all destroyed. And my father summoned me back to Israel and—"

"I was a bastard."

"I wanted you to think I was making a choice."

"I shoulda had your six."

She shrugged. "It was what it was."

He'd dropped her in the lion's den and flown back to his job, his life, his empty house. "Then what, Ziver?"

"You know," she said softly. "I will not repeat any of it."

"And then you were back here."

She laughed humorlessly. "Feeling like I had been dropped out of a spaceship. Everything was different. I had no place to live. I had no ID. I had no car. I was lucky to have a bank account and good people who had no forgotten who I had worked so hard to become."

Gibbs sank down in a chair. He'd done nothing at first. But the gang? Sure. "They were trying to make it up to you."

"I never held them responsible. I felt guilty that you all came across the globe to find me."

"We thought you were dead."

"And still you came."

He looked down at his hands, folded on the tabletop.

"But," she continued, brighter, smiling. "I got a new apartment. I bought new things. I watched more television, read more books. I became a citizen. I began to dissolve my relationship with Mossad and my father. I would not be controlled anymore. Tony and I…we started seeing each other. It was a secret. It felt so defiant and so _delicious._ And then?" She shrugged. "I got hurt."

"You couldn't hide from us anymore."

"I could not make that choice." She raised one eyebrow. "And according to some legal documentation between you and my father, I still cannot."

"Formality."

"It was necessary at the time. I felt like I was drowning. Even after I came home. Even after the house, and you, and Tony—for a year, maybe, I could not keep my head above water."

"What changed?"

"The miracle of neuroplasticity."

He snorted. She laughed. "That is all I can claim. It was not like I woke up one morning able to do quantum physics; we put in a lot of hard work."

 _We_. "Don't give me too much credit."

"You deserve plenty for what you did. What you _do_."

He shrugged. "I made a choice."

"For reasons I cannot begin to understand."

"You gave up your family, your country, hell your _life_ for my team, Ziver. Someone owed you."

"You?"

"Process of elimination."

She cocked her head. "I remember Vance's bedside manner to be…somewhat lacking. But so many people are afraid of people with disabilities. They do not know what to say, or what to do. He is not alone in that."

He was still embarrassed for Ziva every time someone pet her on the head. "Hard to see you struggle."

"It is hard to wake up in the morning and have to consciously think about every step of the day. It is hard to know when to ask for help and when to figure things out on my own. And it is hard not to feel resentful of everyone and everything. Do you know how jealous I was of Delilah? _Delilah_ who experienced immeasurable physical pain and PTSD? I heard _L4_ and thought, _she will be independent, and I am not, and that is unfair._ How childish is that?"

She'd never, ever let on. Not even when she'd gone with Tim and Delilah to seating clinic to pick her chair. "It's human, Ziver."

"I have never been comfortable with my own humanity."

Made two of 'em. "You and everyone else, Ziver."

"I was taught to be different. _Greater_ than human. And then I was unable to perform even basic self-care. That is difficult for anyone. I preferred, for a long time, that I had died."

He swallowed, unexpectedly emotional. "Glad you didn't."

"Me, too."

Thank _whatever_ for meds. For docs. For shrinks. For families. He touched her hand with one of his callused fingers. "Glad you're here. Glad we're all here."

She gave him a sly look. "I love you, too."

Damn her knowing. He got up. "I'm going upstairs."

Ziva nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow I'd like to hang up some of our artwork. I will need your help."

"Yep."

"Liana already chose a place in my art room for the photo transfers she made."

"Yep."

"She is quite proud of them."

"She's a talented kid."

"She's proud of having made something with _you_."

 _Yeah, well_. "She's a good kid."

"Yes."

Tony came around the bend from the new TV room. He was grinning. "Guess who went to sleep in her own bed?"

"The only person not in this room?" Ziva ventured.

DiNozzo's eyes were alight. "Know what that means?"

Gibbs cut for the stairs. "Glad we blew in better insulation."

He heard their bedroom door close. Laughter filtered up, then nothing. Better get used to that, he figured. He lived here.

 _Lived here._

He stretched out on the couch, unmuted the TV. _Run, Man, Run_. 1968. The final chapter of Sollima's trilogy. A rifle-shot ringing out across the desert hills.

 _McGee and DiNozzo dragging Ziva out of that hot hole in the earth. Saleem bleeding out on the dirty cell floor, his eyes wide and unseeing._

 _The elevator opening, agents like prairie dogs popping up from their cubicles._

 _Abby hugging Ziva, then the rest of them, ignoring the stink of sweat and fear they still radiated._

 _The knock his piece made when he dropped it in the drawer. His badge. His wallet and keys._

 _The knock._

A knock. Gibbs raised his head. He hadn't put a light on. "Yeah?"

"Saba?"

He opened the door. "Thought you were in bed."

"I woke up. My parents' door is locked."

"They're tired."

She gave him a look. "Saba, I'm _eight._ I know what they're doing. Abby bought me a book with these cool illustrations that have these overlays-"

"I don't need to know."

She held out a flat package wrapped in brown craft paper. "I made this."

"Li—"

"I made it for _you_."

He flipped on a lamp, took the package, tore off the wrapping. It was a sketch, matted and framed in military blue and gold.

His old house.

His old house as it had been when his wife and daughter were alive, with the flowerbeds tended and cleaned. The porch swing. The picture window. His old truck in the drive, because he was home and there were steaks on the grill and _Crosby, Stills, and Nash_ on the record player.

He exhaled. "Liana."

"I made it for you."

Gibbs sat heavily on the sofa with the picture in both hands. "Yeah."

"I wanted you to have something from your old house, but I didn't know what. So I made that."

"You," he choked. "You did good, kid."

"You like it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I like it."

"You can hang it up. Maybe you can hang some of your old pictures, too. Like of your daughter and stuff."

"Yeah."

"You like it?"

He looked at her, so young in her pajamas and braids. "Yeah, Li. I like it."

She gave a half-smile. "Good. Abba took me to the framer to choose the mats."

"You did good."

Liana nodded gravely. "Thank you. I wanted it to be really nice for you. I picked the frame because it was wood like what we used to do the photo transfers."

Teak. Damn nice, too. "Thanks."

"Will you hang it someplace special?"

"Yep."

Her smile grew. "Good."

Gibbs gripped it tightly by the edges. "Thank you, Liana."

"I don't want you to throw away your past."

He smirked. "You're a smart kid, Li."

She nodded. "That's why I placed into third grade at my new school."

He laughed at that, at her seriousness and sweetness. "Yep."

"You know what?" she started. "If I didn't have you, I wouldn't have my family. But I wasn't even sure you liked me when I got here."

Goddamn it. He'd kept his distance so she'd bond with Ziver and DiNozzo. "I'm sorry."

She blinked. "My dad said you had a rule about—"

"Sometimes we have to break the rules."

"He says that, too."

"Your dad's a lot smarter than people give him credit for."

She sighed. "Yeah, like Ema sometimes."

He laughed. She laughed, but grew serious quickly. "I'm scared to go to school."

"You are going to do great, kid."

"Just half-days to start."

"Yep."

"And you'll pick me up."

"Yep."

"And we're going to get a dog."

 _Huh?_ "Says who?"

"My dad. He said it was your idea. It was my idea to go to the shelter, not a breeder."

"Good."

"None of us ever had a pet."

"You'll learn."

"Did you?"

 _Duchess._ "Had a shepherd growing up."

"Was she nice?"

He smiled, remembering her high bark, the way she herded him away from the river when it ran too high, when she jumped in to retrieve his canoe when it broke free, when she kicked dirt over the campfire left burning. "She kept me out of a lot of trouble."

"Oh. I don't get in trouble much."

"You're a better kid than I ever was."

Liana shook her head. Reconciling. "But now—"

"I was a bastard for a long time, Lee-lee."

"Why—"

"Grew out of it."

"Oh. That's…good?"

"Better than the alternative."

She didn't ask what that was. "Ok. I think I should go to bed now." She leaned forward and put her arms around his neck. "I love you. I hope you like your gift. Goodnight."

And then she disappeared down the stairs to her new bedroom with the jungle-green paint job and the whole wall of windows.

And Gibbs sat, flexing his hands, still holding the drawing. That was where he'd lived.

 _Lived_.

And where Shannon had lived. And Kelly. But mostly he'd lived there with their ghosts and bourbon and the boats.

And now he lived here. Among the living.

And maybe a dog.

He put the picture on the kitchen counter, displayed so anyone who came in could see it. He'd hang it up later. Find a spot. A good spot. And hang it with nails in the studs so that even when he was gone, whoever came up here would see that he'd lived there.

Among the living.

 _Fin._

. . . .


End file.
